


The Vigilante Pranksters of Brooklyn High

by Rainy_dearest



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky's kind of a jerk in the first few chapters, Bullying, DUMB BOYS IN LOVE AND BEING PUNKS TOGETHER, Fluff, High School AU, M/M, Oblivious Steve, Pranks, Punk!Steve, Stucky - Freeform, Tiny Steve, Vigilante Pranksters, pining Bucky, pranksters, pre-serum!Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainy_dearest/pseuds/Rainy_dearest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes believes that there are only two good things about high school.<br/>One of them is Steve Rogers, the tiny punk who picks fights, steals library books, and skips school to go to protests. The other is Captain America, Brooklyn High’s mysterious vigilante prankster. No one knows who he is; they only know that if you shove one kid into a locker, you’ll find 20 water balloons in yours the next day.<br/>Bucky has spent the majority of his high school career trying to stay out of trouble, and he’s about to risk it all for a sincere boy with a secret identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Captain

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> So as much as I love Punk!Bucky in all the High School AUs (I'm pretty sure I've read all of them), I really wanted to explore the idea of a Bucky who's decently popular and a good student until he befriends that trouble making punk Steve Rogers. So after spending weeks outlining 17 chapters of this monstrosity, here it is!  
> Warnings for some sexist and racist slurs in this first chapter, because teenagers are awful. And Gilmore Hodge is awful. (I got really uncomfortable writing those parts, so hopefully there won't be many.)  
> Also you may not be happy with Bucky for these first few chapters, but I promise he has his reasons (however mislead they are) and he WILL get better.
> 
> I would like to thank my best friend Shelby/Tony for beta'ing this story and helping me develop the whole idea and putting up with my nonstop babbling about it for these past few weeks. I would also like to say "Fuck you, Shelby." for introducing me to these heartbreaking dorks and essentially ruining my life.

There was a single secret truth about high school. A truth that was so universal that it spanned back hundreds of years and across every continent. A truth that went unspoken, but that everyone had to figure out eventually, and that Bucky had figured out within the first week of freshman year. That truth was this:

High school is complete and utter _bullshit._

The lessons, the lunches, the getting up at fuck-early in the morning to sit at a desk for nine hours- all such total bullshit.

But the _people_. The people were the worst. Especially Hodge. Gilmore Hodge was an asshole. Bucky knew this because he ate lunch with him almost every day.

Hodge was currently poking him in the ribs and chatting almost nonstop. “Hey Buck, have you seen that Darcy girl? What a rack on that one, right? Am I right?” His leering face was inches from Bucky’s, who wanted nothing more than to shove Hodge’s head into his plate. He popped a French fry into his mouth instead.

“I guess she’s pretty nice.” Bucky _had_ noticed her of course; Darcy sat across from him in algebra. She _was_ well endowed, but Bucky personally admired her for her sharp tongue rather than her breasts.

“’Pretty nice?’ _Pretty nice_?” Hodge squawked. “Those jugs are incredible! What I wouldn’t do for a night with her.” Bucky would do a lot to make Hodge _just shut his damn mouth_.

An arm draped over his shoulders. “I betcha Buck’s already gotten some of that action.” Brock Rumlow jeered as he shook Bucky heartily. “Haven’t you, Buck?”

 _Shut up shut up shut up I hate you so much don’t touch me_. “Sure have.” Bucky smirked easily around a spoonful of yogurt and his giant lie. The only time he’d ever even spoken to Darcy was to ask for help with his homework. _Rumlow_ didn’t need to know that though.

Rumlow clapped Bucky on the back nearly hard enough to knock the breath out of him. “That’s our ladies’ man!” his praise gave Bucky the urge to shower. He wanted to burn the hand that Rumlow was touching him with. He laughed with him instead.

Every day he dreaded lunch. Every day he came and sat down at the same table, with the same awful people. Every day-

Bucky focused on eating the rest of his meal to avoid talking. His attempt was hindered when Hodge jabbed him in the side and nodded at one of the sophomores who was walking across the cafeteria. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Bucky followed his gaze back to the short, dark haired boy with small eyes. Bucky had talked to him before, once, while waiting in the guidance office for their schedules. They’d complained about how only three foreign language classes were offered. Jim, Bucky thought his name was Jim, had joked that he would have taken Japanese so he could finally understand what his grandmother was saying behind his back. Bucky had laughed.

He didn’t want to look the boy in the eyes now. He knew what was about to happen. Because Gilmore Hodge wasn’t just an asshole, he was a really fucking racist asshole.

Rumlow nodded and Hodge stood up, blocking Jim’s path. “Hey China-Town, where’re you taking our food? I heard the art teacher keeps plenty of ramen in her desk for you chinks.” Jim only rolled his eyes at Hodge’s sneer.

“Haha, asshole.” He snapped. Bucky wanted to warn him to just _be quiet just don’t talk back it’ll be over quicker trust me-_ but Jim kept talking, sarcasm dripping off of every word. “That’s real goddamn funny. You know I can eat food besides noodles, right? Like, I won’t die or anything.” He turned to walk away with a muttered curse of “Racist prick”, but Hodge pushed him to the floor before he could take a step, spilling his lunch everywhere.

“Just giving you some friendly advice.” Hodge jeered, kicking the fallen tray and scattering the remaining food on his way back to his seat. Bucky tried not to look as Jim stumbled up, ears red and eyes shining as he slowly realized that he didn’t have another option if he wanted to eat. Shaking with anger and defeat, Jim stalked out, walking in the direction of the art room.

 Bucky’s whole table erupted with laughter. Bucky laughed with them. Not laughing would be disagreeing. Not laughing would mean losing their protection. Not laughing was dangerous.

Bucky hated jerks like Rumlow, but he hated getting beat up more. He’d gotten enough of that in middle school, back when he was a shy bookworm without any friends. Back when he’d tried to believe in the good in people and had gotten a black eye for his trouble. He’d learned his lesson. He wasn’t going back to that. He wasn’t going to spend every day in fear like that again.

He didn’t care if it made him a coward.

* * *

Bucky had always been a good student. He was naturally good with some subjects and studied hard for the others. He hardly spoke in class, of course, but he never made below a B in anything. Despite everything he hated about high school, he figured he might as well learn something while he was stuck there.

But that particular Friday, Bucky couldn’t wait for his last class to end. He wanted to get away as soon as possible.

At least French was one of the subjects he actually enjoyed. Languages had always come easily to him, and by the time class was half over, Bucky had already finished translating the poem they’d been assigned. Seeing that no one else was anywhere near done, he got up to peruse the bookshelf near the front of the classroom.

Of course that was the moment that Steve _fucking_ Rogers decided to walk in. Steve Rogers, with his stupidly cute oversized hoodies and ripped jeans and beaten up red converse with the wings that Bucky had watched him draw on the sides during their English class. Steve Rogers, who had a bloody lip and was trying his best not to wince as he smiled in greeting to their very displeased teacher.

            “Sorry Ms. Hill. I was in the nurse’s office.” Steve said as Bucky pretended to be more interested in the back cover of the book in his hands than the conversation going on behind him.

“Mr. Rogers,” Ms. Hill greeted him harshly. “I hope you remember how seriously we take fighting at school-”

 “Oh this? I just ran into a locker. You know how clumsy I can be.” Steve interrupted – _politely_ , that calm little shit- before she could finish her chastisement. Bucky risked another glance at Steve, who was still managing to keep that smile on his face as he shrugged, and wondered how someone who looked so sweet could lie so easily.

Ms. Hill narrowed her eyes. “You were absent yesterday as well, mind explaining why?” she asked curtly as she flipped through the papers on her desk.

“I was sick.” It was a convincing enough lie, Bucky thought, what with how frail the little guy looked. Ms. Hill didn’t seem nearly as convinced. She stared him down severely for a full 34 seconds (Bucky counted), but when his only response proved to be that bright-as-the-fucking-sun smile, she sighed and shook her head.

“Here’s today’s assignment.” She told him, pressing a packet into his hands. “We took notes on conjugation yesterday, so someone will have to let you copy theirs and explain it to you.” She shifted her glare to Bucky and he hastily tried to look intently focused on his book. “Mr. Barnes.” She barked. “You look like you’re finished. Why don’t you help Steven catch up?”

Bucky fiddled with the book, trying to avoid looking at Steve. “Uh, wouldn’t Gabe or that foreign exchange kid be better at that?” He suggested, desperately wishing that he wasn’t so intimidated by a kid that looked like he weighed 90 pounds soaking wet.

Ms. Hill frowned at him. “Gabe isn’t finished yet. And Jacques may be a native French speaker, but he’s probably not best suited to teach this. At least, not in English.” She nodded them over to their desks, and Bucky put down the book, defeated. Steve followed him to his seat, seemingly unaffected by Bucky’s apparent reluctance to work with him.

It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t like Steve. Sure, the kid was a smart-mouthed punk who usually stayed _in_ trouble more than he stayed out of it, but he was nice enough. No, the problem was that Bucky liked Steve a little _too_ much. If anyone found out he was gay for the school delinquent, it’d be like painting a target on his back.

Bucky had worked hard the past two years to make sure he was as likeable as possible, without drawing too much attention to himself. He wasn’t about to risk that for some punk kid, no matter how stupidly adorable he was.

Steve started digging papers and pens out of his oversized bag. Bucky slid his notes over to him silently, making an effort not to touch him. Steve’s eyes scanned over the notes, narrowing in confusion as he read. He tapped Bucky, who tried not to jump out of his skin at the sudden contact. “What?” he snapped.

Steve twirled his pencil between his fingers, looking uncomfortable under Bucky’s glare. “I-uh, I don’t understand this part.” He said, pointing to Bucky’s paper. “Why isn’t it ‘Je veux vais á Paris’? I thought aller became vais if it comes after Je.” He glanced up at Bucky through his long lashes, smiling timidly and _goddamn his eyes were so blue._

“No, see, there’s two verbs next to each other, so only the first is conjugated.”  Bucky explained quietly, pointedly keeping his eyes lowered to Steve’s hands. There was dirt under his fingernails. “So while vouloir becomes veux, aller stays the same.” Steve nodded and began copying down his notes determinedly. His blond hair was sticking up everywhere, and Bucky desperately wanted to smooth it down.  He doodled on his paper furiously instead.

“Is this a d or a t?” Steve whispered, and Bucky cursed his bad handwriting. He was about to reply when a louder voice across the aisle interrupted him.

“This is impossible!” A boy with dark hair whined, erasing furiously. “Ms. Hill, what does this poem have to do with the lesson? I don’t even know half of these words!”

Ms. Hill let out a long suffering sigh. “You _would_ know them if you actually paid attention in class instead of playing on your phone, Mr. Stark.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Every day, without fail, Tony Stark would start to complain whenever he got bored with his work. Not only was it beginning to get on Ms. Hill’s last nerves, but it also distracted many of the students.

Tony chewed his latest handful of Doritos- he was always eating; the constant chomping drove the rest of the students crazy- while Ms. Hill explained that the poem included some of their vocabulary words “-but most importantly it introduces us to French culture.”

“Yeah, but what’s so great about France?” Tony grumbled after he swallowed. Bucky saw Jacques Dernier turn around in his chair, a look in his eyes that suggested he wanted to knock his pitiful excuse for a goatee clean off his face. “I mean, it’s so overrated. Like, the girls don’t shave and their clothes look boring and they eat _snails_ for crying out loud!”

At this point most of the class had given up trying to focus and were either glaring at Tony or trying to catch a short nap while Ms. Hill was distracted. Steve, Bucky noticed, kept working.

“Why is this class required anyways?” Tony continued even as he shoved another handful of chips into his mouth. “I mean we’re never going to _use_ it unless-” He stopped mid-chew, his eyes widening in horror. Slowly, fearfully, with the entire class staring at him with mingled expressions of confusion and anticipation, he looked into the Doritos bag- and screamed.

He flung the bag to the floor and began frantically trying to spit out the rest of the chips in his mouth. Bucky peered over the edge of his desk to where the contents of the bag had spilled out. There, amidst the scattered chips, were several live snails.

“Bugs!” Tony screamed. “There were bugs in my _food!_ ” Several other students grimaced, a few gagged, most of them laughed. Steve barely glanced up. Bucky peered closer at the bag and noticed a slip of paper sticking out. He reached down to pick it up, smirking when he saw the red white and blue shield that was carefully drawn on it.

“Looks like the Cap has struck again.” He muttered, holding out the paper so Tony could see. Tony only continued shrieking in outrage while Ms. Hill tried to tell him to clean up his mess. Bucky tuned them out, tracing a thumb over the star in the center of the drawing. “I wonder who he is.” Bucky mused.

“Who?” Steve asked absently, still not looking up from his work.

Bucky gaped at him, incredulous. “You know, _Captain America_?” He pointed to the paper, as if it explained everything. “Anonymous prankster? Takes it upon himself to punish every douche bag and bully in Brooklyn High? He’s like a school legend.”

“Oh. Him.” Steve shrugged and kept writing. Bucky’s gaze returned to the paper, only to glance back in surprise when Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“ _What?”_

Steve shook his head. “Nothing. Just- heh, the guy kinda sounds like a real asshole.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest that _Captain America is not an asshole he is a goddamn saint_ before he remembered that he shouldn’t even be talking to Steve _fucking_ Rogers, much less defending the school menace. He leaned back into his seat with a huff.

“Whatever, _punk_.”

* * *

 

The rumors about Captain America had started during Bucky’s freshman year.

Many people believed that the Cap’s spree was prompted when the green house was demolished. The school had torn it down to make room for the new soccer fields, despite the protests of several students who enjoyed spending their lunch hour there. The next week, there were flowers planted in the sinks of every bathroom at school. The three members of the botany club denied being involved entirely, claiming that they had no idea where the flowers had even _come_ from. The only evidence had been the drawings of a circular red white and blue shield taped to the mirrors.

A few weeks later a group of upperclassmen had gone around throwing freshmen into trashcans. The next afternoon, they found the familiar shape of a shield painted onto their windshields in week old yogurt- strawberry, blueberry, and vanilla.

The pranks became more and more frequent as time went on, and the red, white, and blue shield came with them. Soon enough, the students and faculty of Brooklyn High began to realize that the tricks were being pulled by the same person, but no one could figure out _who_. As far as anyone could tell, the only connection between the pranks was that the victims had all harassed other students prior to the incident.

It wasn’t until Augustus Magear’s final history project was sabotaged that people started calling the anonymous vigilante prankster “The Captain”. Augustus, who was the kind of person who believed that the Japanese internment camps were totally justified, was disliked by a majority of the people who had ever had the misfortune of hearing him speak. He was also a huge douchebag who believed it was his right to yell at anyone who disagreed with his asinine viewpoints until they cried.

Augustus had gotten up to present his power point on World War II to the class like he was about give a presidential address to the United States. His confidence had quickly dissolved into distress when he realized that every slide was filled with pictures of crying children with text above them saying things like “I’M AUGUSTUS MAGEAR AND I’M ALWAYS RIGHT!”, “WHY WON’T ANYONE LISTEN TO MEEEE!?”, and “THOSE CAMPS WERE FOR THE GREATER GOOD!!”

The very last slide contained only a picture of a WWII captain smiling and saluting, with the shield drawn on his chest.

That, combined with the patriotic colors of notorious shield, caused several students to start calling the prankster “Captain America”. And, well, the name caught on.

It had been two years since then. Two years, and still nobody had discovered who the Captain was. Two years and he had become a legend, something that the students of Brooklyn High School had started to count on. Captain America was always there, always watching, always ready to avenge some poor kid and his stolen lunch money. Some people thought he was a menace, some thought he was a vigilante, some thought he was merely an annoyance.

Bucky never said it out loud, but he thought Captain America was a hero.

* * *

 

Bucky had hoped to go straight home after class. He had also hoped to get a pony for his fifth birthday, but his yard was too small and Brock Rumlow needed someone to entertain him, so Bucky was pretty sure that hoping for _anything_ was stupid and pointless and that his parents had lied when they said dreams could come true.

So that’s how Bucky ended up smoking with Rumlow under the bleachers, waiting for Hodge to get out of football practice so Rumlow could take him home in his stupid too-expensive-for-a-seventeen-year-old jeep. Bucky still didn’t have a car, or a license for that matter, but his house wasn’t far from the school, so he usually walked anyways.

“Fuckin _Hodge._ ” Rumlow grumbled around his cigarette. “Can’t believe that idiot’s making me drive him home. It’s his fault he let his fucking car battery die. If he had just turned his headlights off, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off right now.”

Bucky nodded distractedly, pulling his worn baseball jacket tighter around him. It was unusually cold for October, and he almost wished he hadn’t finished his last cigarette so quickly so he’d still have something warm between his fingers. Now he was freezing _and_ he had an increased probability of getting lung cancer.

Bucky glanced through the gaps between the bleachers and onto the field, where practice was just beginning to wind down. Hodge was shouting at some freshman player. “Why keep him around then?” He asked absentmindedly. “If he’s so much trouble, I mean.” Rumlow looked at him incredulously.

“He’s been held back twice. He’s a legally an adult, which means he’s the only guy in our class who can legally buy me cigarettes. He’s useful.” Rumlow rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world before shaking the carton of Marlboros at Bucky. “Speaking of which, you want another?” Bucky shook his head as he tried to stand up.

“I’m good, thanks.” He waved his hand nervously, beginning to back up. “I should actually be going soon-”

Rumlow paused, giving him a hard look. “What, you got a date or something?”

Bucky shifted uncertainly, “No, just… homework?” It was a lame excuse, even if it was true. Rumlow leveled a glare at him, and Bucky braced himself for the worst. But a second later he let out a bark of laughter and shook his head.

“Real funny Barnes.” Rumlow chuckled. “You’ve got all weekend. Sit your ass back down.” He said the last sentence with a smile, but it still sounded like an order. Reluctantly, Bucky made his way back over to Rumlow, taking another cigarette as he sat down. _At least if I die from lung cancer, I won’t have to hang out with him anymore._ He thought bitterly, but he never let his cheerful mask slip.

Bucky resigned himself to the fact that he would be stuck there for at least fifteen more minutes and stretched out on the grass, unaware that the team was beginning make their way off of the field and past the bleachers. He jumped when he felt something hit his leg and looked up to see a towering line-baker stumbling and cursing. The man glowered at Bucky and caught him by his jacket before he could scramble up.

“Woah, sorry big guy! I didn’t see you there, honestly-” The guy was already pulling back his fist for a punch and _goddammit I went two years without getting beat up I can’t believe I’m breaking the record like this._

Suddenly Rumlow was next to him, putting a calming hand on Bucky’s would-be attacker’s arm. “Relax, Carson.” His smile was easy and his words smooth, but his eyes were dangerous. “He said it was an accident. Getting into a fight over it would be pretty dumb, don’t you think?” Rumlow, still smiling, gave him a pointed look and nodded to the small crowd that had formed behind them. Bucky recognized a few of them as some of Rumlow’s friends.

Carson slowly uncurled his fist, dropping Bucky back to the ground. “Sure. Sorry Rumlow.” Bucky thought Carson should probably be apologizing to _him_ for threatening to beat him to a pulp, but he decided it was better to stay quiet. He muttered his thanks to Rumlow as he watched Carson and the other players lumber off towards the showers.

“No problem. You’d do the same for me, right Barnes?” Rumlow’s grin slowly grew into a leer. “I mean, if I was in a sticky situation and needed a favor, you’d help a pal out, right? That’s just what friends do.”

Bucky nodded with a sick feeling in his stomach. “Sure.” This wasn’t the first time Rumlow had stuck up for him, but Bucky knew he didn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart. To Rumlow, a person’s value depended on what they could do for him. Bucky was already in his debt- Rumlow was just waiting for the opportunity to make him useful.

He was distracted from his alarming revelation by Rumlow waving at the figure trudging towards them. “Hodge! What the hell took you so long?” he called, before wrinkling his nose. “Why do you smell like chicken soup?”

Hodge stalked up and Bucky realized that he was still in his practice clothes. His other clothes were soaking wet and clutched in his hand, along with his gym bag. “Why? I’ll show you why! Look at this shit!” He snarled, dumping the contents of his bag onto the ground. Bucky was expecting pads and other football gear, but what spilled out was… noodles?

At least fifteen packs worth of ramen noodles had to have been stuffed into Hodge’s now soggy bag. Bucky was suddenly certain that his clothes were soaked in the chicken flavored broth as well.  He had to bite back the wide grin that threatened to spread across his face when he saw the familiar shield drawn on the side of the bag in red, white, and blue sharpie.

 Rumlow was not as courteous.

“What the hell Hodge?” He shook his head, laughing mockingly. “You let the Cap get you again? God, that’s just sad.” Hodge shoved him roughly

“Shut the fuck up and help me look for him. The bastard’s probably still around.”

 "No way. I’ve been here long enough. I’m going home. You can get your ride with me or not, I don’t care.” Rumlow called over his shoulder as he began making his way to the parking lot. “But I’m not sticking around to chase some stupid ‘legendary prankster’ or whatever.” Hodge stood and pouted for a second, before begrudgingly following him.

“If I ever find out who the fucker is I swear I’m gonna kill him.” Bucky heard Hodge grumble as he dragged his bag along behind him. He didn’t bother saying goodbye. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth at the moment.

Bucky waited until they were halfway across the parking lot before doubling over in a fit of giggles. Captain America getting revenge was awesome, but Captain America getting revenge on Hodge was _fucking incredible_ , and- if he was honest- it was something Bucky had desperately needed to see after such a horrible week.

He pulled himself up, still chuckling quietly. A sharp noise nearby made him jump and he whipped his head towards it, peering across the field. It was starting to get dark, and Bucky had to squint against the bright floodlights, but he could just make out a figure sneaking out from behind the locker room building. The figure cast a glance behind them before they started running.

For Bucky, it was like the world had shorted out for a moment because _it can’t be him, it couldn’t really be him, could it?_ He stepped back into the shadows of the bleachers, waiting, waiting for the figure to come close enough. The boy, he could see it was a boy now, had the hood of his jacket pulled over his face. Bucky couldn’t see-

If only he could get closer-

He was hidden in the shadows. The boy couldn’t see him. He was running straight at Bucky, and Bucky took his chance.

In a flash, Bucky stepped into his path. The boy tried to skid to a stop, but his momentum was too much. He slammed into Bucky with a startled yell, sending them both crashing to the ground.

The breath was knocked out of Bucky’s lungs when he landed, and he grimaced. With a groan, he blinked open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of beat up red converse, wings drawn on the side with white sharpie.

_Oh shit._

The contents of a backpack were strewn across the grass, including several empty ramen wrappers.

_Oh shit._

And Steve Rogers- Steve _fucking_ Rogers was staring up at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“Oh _shit_.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand there's a little drawing I did to go along with the chapter ^.^ Hopefully there will be more.


	2. Mission: Banned Book Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning Captain America's true identity, Bucky confronts Steve in the art room.  
> He is in way over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo sorry this took so long- school started, I got busy- but it's almost twice as long as the first chapter so maybe that'll make up for it?  
> Enjoy!

Bucky had to pause outside the art room. He knew he might start to look suspicious if he didn’t move soon. He also knew that Rumlow might start wondering where he was. He might even send someone looking for him, and he could _not_ be caught in this hallway.

Still, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to open the door, because he knew for certain that Steve Rogers would be inside- spending the lunch period there alone, like he did every day.

Ever since Steve had _literally_ knocked him off his feet the Friday before, ever since he had cursed and scrambled to gather his things, ever since he had taken off without another word to a stunned and speechless Bucky, the tiny blond had been the only thing on Bucky’s mind. That had been the night that Bucky had discovered his secret.

Steve Rogers was Captain America.

Which… Bucky had a hard time digesting at first.

He’d adored Captain America ever since he’d been an anxious freshman, still looking for another place to eat lunch that was as safe as the greenhouse had been. He’d had to stop himself numerous times from punching the air in joy every time he’d heard of the Cap’s latest prank. He used to daydream about someday meeting him, maybe even becoming his sidekick like in the dumb comics he used to read when he was a kid. But Steve-

 Steve was punk, a troublemaker. He was shrimpy and stubborn and not what Bucky had imagined the Cap to be like _at all._

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Of _course_ Steve _fucking_ Rogers, the kid who once picked a fight with a guy three times his size for tripping a freshman he’d never met before, would be the only one crazy enough to don a secret identity and wage war on half the school. _Of fucking course._

And _of course_ Bucky’s biggest hero and the guy he’d been totally-not-crushing on for the past two years just _had_ to be the same fucking person. Because obviously the universe hated him.

It was safe to say that this revelation had done nothing to help Bucky’s nerves.

But Bucky had a plan. He’d had all weekend to formulate his strategy. He knew Steve’s secret, he had the upper hand. He had no reason to be so nervous.

He pushed the door open.

Maybe he had one reason…

A messy blond head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. If Steve recognized Bucky from that night, he didn’t let on. His smile was polite, if not slightly confused, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he spoke. “Hi, James.” He greeted cheerfully, and Bucky pushed away his disappointment- Steve had never called him by his nickname. “If you’re looking for Ms. Nichols, she’s in the teacher’s lounge.”

Bucky leaned back against the door, trying to keep his face neutral. “Actually, I forgot my lunch today, and I heard that she keeps ramen in here. Could you help me find some?”

Steve’s face paled and yeah- Bucky had him now. He quickly looked back down at his paper, busying himself with whatever he was working on, trying to recover. “Um, sorry,” and to his credit, his voice hardly shook. “I think she’s all out.”

Bucky smirked and walked forward, stopping in front Steve. “Oh really?” He leaned on the table between them. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they all went, would you?”

Steve took a tired breath and put down his pencil, before glaring up at him with such ferocity that Bucky had to stop himself from taking a step back. “If you’re gonna beat me up hurry and get it over with.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, though Steve’s gaze never faltered. “Um-um, no! I…I don’t want that.” Bucky amended hurriedly, waving his hands, suddenly feeling guilty as all hell. The thought that the first thing Steve expected him to do was beat the crap out of him gave him an unpleasant, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 Steve still had that hard glare fixed on him, but he raised his eyebrows wearily. “Then why are you here?”

Bucky tried to regain his composure. If he let the kid get him flustered, he’d never agree to his deal. He quickly plastered his confident smirk back on. (If there was one thing high school had taught him, it was how to act like he knew what he was doing.)

“I think we both know the answer to that, _Captain_.” He answered, adding just a hint of danger to his words. He didn’t want to scare Steve away; he just needed him to intimidate him a little. Just enough that Steve would listen to him. Bucky leaned against the table again. “You know, there’s a lot of people who would be pretty upset with you if your secret got out.” He let the unsaid threat hang in the air.

Steve apparently didn’t scare that easily. He matched Bucky’s stare with cool blue eyes. “There’s already a lot of people who aren’t happy with me.” He reasoned, a hard edge to his voice. “What’s a few more?”

“You caused the school a lot of trouble. You could get suspended.” Bucky pushed.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“The guys you tricked are gonna kick your ass.”

“Again, _nothing new_.” Bucky stared at him, completely at a loss. Steve had actually gone back to sketching and was regarding Bucky with a calm indifference. He couldn’t argue with him- he could already feel his sanity unraveling.

“You- you’re really not worried?”

“Nope.” Steve shrugged easily. He let out a little sigh and tapped his pencil on the table. “I knew when I started this that someone might figure it out. I need to deal with the consequences.”

Bucky let his shoulders sag, awed by Steve’s dignified resignation. “But… you don’t… have to.” He argued weakly.

Steve tilted his head. “You’re right. I don’t. Not if you keep quiet.” Bucky startled, and Steve smirked at him. “That’s what you were getting at right? You’d keep quiet for the right price? It wouldn’t work- I actually doubt anyone would believe you in the first place- but it was a nice plan.”

Bucky stared at him in complete shock. _Fuck._ He thought. Steve had figured him out. _Goddammit shit fuck._ He was in way over his head.

Steve was still smiling triumphantly when he went back to his paper. “So what did you want?” he asked dismissively. “You had to have a reason to try to scare me, what was it?”

Bucky grabbed the chair next to him and slid into it, still staring at Steve from across the table. He was impossible. Incredible. Even if some people _might_ doubt him, Bucky was practically threatening to give Steve a death sentence and the kid was just drawing away like he didn’t have a care in the world. Hell, Bucky could still beat the crap out of him if he wanted to, but Steve’s shoulders showed no sign of tension. _How can he be so calm?_

Bucky didn’t know… but he needed to find out.

“I want in.” Steve blinked up at him in surprise, obviously having thought that Bucky had either left or stopped responding. Bucky fixed him with a determined stare, repeating himself just to make sure he was understood. “I want in. I want to help you.”

Steve’s face went blank. Then twitched. Then he was howling with laughter, nearly doubled over in hysterics. Bucky froze in his chair, not knowing how to respond. Steve was still giggling when he caught Bucky’s bewildered expression.

“Oh god, you were serious.” He deadpanned, grin slipping off of his face instantly. Bucky merely nodded in response.

Steve tried to smooth out his hair, obviously caught off guard. He gazed curiously at Bucky. “I humiliated your friend.” Steve stated slowly, like he was worried that Bucky didn’t understand. “You saw me.”

Bucky felt a flash of anger and his gaze hardened. “Hodge is _not_ my friend.” He snarled before he could catch himself.

Steve shrugged. “Could have fooled me.”

“I’m not like him.”

Steve brought a hand to his chest, feigning shock. “Oh _yeah_ , of course not!” His words were harsh and mocking.  “That’s _definitely_ why you just threatened me.”

Bucky stood up, fury cold in his eyes.  “I hate them!” He shouted, slamming his hand on the table. Steve didn’t even flinch. He just raised his eyebrows, watching Bucky curiously. “I hate all of them! Hell, I hate _myself_ for being around them!”

“But you still hang around with them.” Steve stated coolly. He rose to his feet, moving forward so that their faces were inches apart. That fire was back in his eyes, daring Bucky, burning through every wall he put up.

. “You don’t know what it’s like to be the little guy. So _why_?”

“I know more than you think.” Bucky sighed, dropping his head. He lifted his eyes once more to Steve’s. “I just want to make things right.”

 “Prove it.” Steve hissed.

“I will.” Bucky assured him. “Just give me a chance.” The plea was raw and desperate.

And Bucky knew it- he was vulnerable. He was begging this frail and bruised boy for mercy. He hadn’t let this part of himself show to anyone, but he had to try. He’d never wanted something so bad in his entire life.

The blond pursed his lips and leaned back, eyes scanning over Bucky again. _Burning him._ Bucky was frozen in place, still looking up at Steve like he was his last hope at redemption, because _he might be, he might be_. He was so desperate to prove himself, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Finally, Steve gave Bucky the tiniest approving smile. “I’ll think about it.” He relented, and Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thank you.” He nodded, and Bucky rushed out the door, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Of course, he already knew:

He had seriously underestimated Steve Rogers.

* * *

Bucky didn’t hear anything from Steve for the next few days. He had walked around in a daze after their confrontation in the art room, only snapping out of it enough to panic when the possibility that Steve might rat him out to Rumlow suddenly occurred to him on his way home the next day. He spent the rest of his walk checking over his shoulder and trying not to break into a run- everybody knew what happened to the guys who talked shit about Rumlow. He only managed to calm himself down the next morning, when his “friends” showed no signs of kicking the shit out of him.

By the time a whole week had passed, Bucky had pretty much given up on ever talking to Steve again. Steve hadn’t said a word to him, and sat as far away from Bucky as possible during French- if he even showed up in the first place.

So when Steve bumped into Bucky in the hallway Tuesday morning, he thought it must have been an accident. Then he felt a slip of paper being roughly pressed into his hand and his disappointment and confusion melted into almost embarrassing giddiness. He waited until he was alone in one of the bathroom stalls to open it, and read it twice just to make sure he didn’t miss anything, even though there was only a single sentence scrawled on the paper.

            _Meet me in the art room during lunch._

Bucky grinned to himself and shoved the note back into his pocket.

Lunch could not come soon enough, and Bucky couldn’t focus in his classes at all. He tried to squash down the hope that was blooming inside of him- after all, Steve may have just invited him to tell him that no, he had _no right_ to join Captain America- but Bucky still caught himself smiling every time his hand brushed over the paper in his pockets.

He only paused outside the art room for a few seconds this time. He cracked open the door, frowning as he squinted into the darkness. _Why aren’t the lights on?_ “Steve?” He called, stepping fully inside to find the light switch.

Suddenly two nimble hands were pushing Bucky against the door with surprising force, slamming it shut. Bucky blinked, just barely able to make out Steve’s shape in the dim light. Steve was only inches away from Bucky, his hands planted on either side of Bucky’s head, keeping him cornered, his eyes bright and fierce and _too fucking close._ “Sorry about this.” Steve growled, his voice low and rough. “But I need you.”

Bucky was pretty sure his heart actually stopped at that moment because _fuck_ -here was this tiny blonde firecracker pinning him against the wall in a dark room and saying he _needed him_ and, yeah, Steve better not get any closer or things were going to get very embarrassing very fast.

“You… need me?” Bucky breathed out, heat already rushing to his face. Steve nodded and pulled back, already moving to one of the art tables where there were papers scattered about, leaving Bucky still pressed against the door and reeling with confusion.

“For a mission.” Steve clarified. “I’m planning this prank- well, sort of prank, and I need help.” Bucky shook his head and finally managed to peel himself from the wall. A prank. Yes, of course, that made much more sense than what Bucky had been thinking, and he grinned with excitement at the realization that _Captain America_ was asking for his help.

It didn’t stop him from being a _little_ disappointed, though.

“A _mission_ , huh?” Bucky teased as he sauntered over. “Sounds pretty serious.”

Steve turned to him and furrowed his brow. “All the pranks are called missions.” He explained, like it was the most obvious thing. “It makes things more fun.”

“Really?” Bucky couldn’t stop himself from chuckling because it _did_ sound a little over-dramatic and… cute. Really cute. “That seems… a little childish, don’t you think?”

Bucky regretted his words immediately when Steve fixed him with a hard look. “Barnes, I hid a whoopi cushion in Coach Phillips’s chair every day for two weeks.” He declared, his face deadpan. “Were you really expecting me to _not_ be childish?”

Bucky laughed again and Steve smiled as he turned back to his papers.

 “Besides, ‘mission’ sounds much better than breaking and entering.” He said with a shrug.

“Whoa.” The smiled dropped off of Bucky’s face and he regarded Steve seriously. Bucky had been prepared to put worms in some guy’s lunch or replace their apple juice with piss but _breaking and entering?_ That was all _kinds_ of illegal. _What l did I just get myself into?_

Steve noticed his sudden perplexed silence and reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, forcing Bucky to look him in the eye. “Hey, listen.” His voice had turned soft and comforting. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll take care of that part. I really only need help with the set up.”

Bucky nodded and reached for one of the papers, ignoring his mind’s protest when the movement dislodged Steve’s hand. It had been surprisingly warm. “Alright. So what do you have in mind?”

“Right.” Steve’s eyes hardened in determination as he stepped back to the table. “I found these papers in some of the teacher’s mailboxes while I was on another mission.” Bucky snorted a giggle and Steve elbowed him in the ribs.

“ _Anyways_. Apparently the administration is banning a ton of books and taking them out of the school library. You’re holding a list of some of them.” Bucky skimmed over the paper and frowned. Some of his favorite books were on that list. “Which, banning books is a shitty thing in the first place, but the way they’re going about it is all wrong too.” Steve sighed. “There’s supposed to be this whole process where it’s reviewed to see if the ban is justified, but they’re just by-passing the whole thing and taking them off the shelves without providing their reasons. But I can guess.” He scowled bitterly. “A lot of these books have LGBT+ themes.

“The biggest problem is that we don’t have a public library close by, so _this_ library was really the only option for a lot of kids to be exposed to these books.” Steve pursed his lips, staring at the papers angrily. 

“You’re getting really riled up about this.” Bucky observed. He loved books as much as the next guy, but Steve’s passionate anger over the situation was a little disconcerting.

Steve stared up at him with wide eyes. “Books are _important.”_ He stated simply. “Everybody takes something different away from each of them. Even if _we_ don’t like a certain book, it could help someone else.”

Bucky shook his head, stunned at the sudden outpouring of wisdom from such a guy who looked no older than thirteen. _Is he really like this all the time?_ He asked himself.

He pulled himself out of his stupor and went back to discussing the, _ugh_ , mission. “So what are they going to do with the books?” Bucky asked.

“Right now they’re keeping them in one of the supply closets in the back. There’s gotta be around thirty of them in there.” Steve explained. “I need keys to get in though. That’s where you come in.”

Bucky frowned. “How can I help?”

“The librarian keeps the keys behind her desk. I just need you to distract her long enough for me to sneak back there and get them.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. You’re charming, you’ll figure it out.” Steve waved his hand dismissively, and Bucky determinedly _did not_ blush at being called charming. (Even though it was sort of true, he could make most of the girls in their school swoon if he wanted.) “Just make sure she doesn’t see me. Hopefully she won’t suspect anything, since you’re such a perfect student and you never _ever_ get into trouble.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It kinda _is_.”

“Is not.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.”

Steve smirked up at him mischievously. Bucky let out a disgruntled huff and crossed his arms. “So what’s the rest of the plan?” He muttered in an attempt to distract Steve from teasing him further.

“I’ll grab the keys, come back here that night to get the books, then take them to my house until I figure out what to do with them.”

“Why at night? Wouldn’t it be safer during the day?”

“I’m pretty sure someone would notice me coming out of the _teachers-only_ supply closet carrying forty pounds worth of banned literature.” Steve rolled his eyes good naturedly. “After hours, the only person around is the night guard, and he doesn’t get there until 8:30.”

“And _that’s_ where the breaking and entering comes in?” Bucky guessed.

“Yep. But like I said, I can take care of it.” Steve shrugged, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice how fragile his shoulders looked. The kid looked like he would fall over if the wind hit him the right way- there was no way he could carry forty pounds to his house. It was likely that Steve didn’t have a car either; Bucky had noticed him walking home from school before. There were some pretty rough neighborhoods in that direction, some that made Bucky uncomfortable even in daylight.

The thought of Steve, little, breakable Steve, struggling to carry that much weight alone through such a dangerous place at _night_ , sent a shock of icy fear through him.

“I’ll go with you.” Bucky told him, setting his jaw determinedly. Steve glanced up in bewilderment.

“You sure about that?” He asked, regarding Bucky with what looked like concern. _He was worried. About_ Bucky. The thought made the brunet want to laugh.

“’Course I’m sure!” He bit back instead.

“We’ll be breaking the law. Just a little.” Steve was grinning wickedly, the dare back in his eyes. “Think you can handle it, _Goody-two shoes?_ ”

“I said I wanted in, right?” Bucky grinned right back. He was inexplicably willing to do anything to prove himself to this kid. “I’m with you til the end of the line, pal.”

* * *

 

With Bucky’s ‘help’, Steve managed to grab the keys without anyone noticing. They had agreed to meet at Starbucks across the street from the school at seven, which was how Bucky ended up fiddling with an empty coffee cup at seven thirty, shaking from a combination of nerves and caffeine.

Steve was _late._ Maybe he had chickened out. Maybe he was setting Bucky up, counting on Bucky to break in without him and find a line of cop cars waiting on him. Maybe he had decided that Bucky would only slow him down and went on without him.

That option pissed Bucky off the most.

Just as he was about to give up and go home, he caught sight of someone with messy blond hair walking in. Bucky jumped up, rushing over to him.

“Steve, where the hell have you been?” He hissed a he reached his side.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed red, and he was breathing hard, like he had run the whole way there. “Sorry.” He panted. “I was on my way when I realized I didn’t have enough money to leave a tip and I had to go back.”

“Do you really have to-”

Steve held up his hand. “It’s fine. Let me order my coffee, then we can go.” Bucky lingered by the door as Steve walked up to the counter evenly. He smiled politely at the barista while he ordered. “Erm, a small black coffee, please?”

He paid mostly in quarters, then stuffed his change and two more dollars in the tip jar. “They don’t get paid enough.” Steve whispered to Bucky as they were leaving. “Hey, do you want some of this? Coffee isn’t really my thing.”

Steve led him around the perimeter of the chain link fence surrounding the school, his eyes focused. “We could climb just over.” Bucky suggested, “It wouldn’t be that hard.”

Steve shook his head. “Can’t. It’s too high. Besides,” He added as he pushed past some of the hedges. “I found another way.” He smiled back at Bucky before ducking through the hole in the fence that had previously been hidden by the shrubbery. Bucky followed close behind, wondering how many times Steve had used that entrance.

With the keys, getting inside the building wasn’t an issue. They pulled flashlights out of their pockets as the door slammed behind them, leaving them in darkness. Steve flipped his on first, illuminating the hallway with a weak beam of light.

“This is incredibly creepy.” Bucky muttered to himself as they made their way down the vacant hallway.

“Weird seeing it without a hundred other kids trying to get to class, huh?” Steve joked.

“Yeah. Weird.” Bucky admitted as they reached his locker. He fiddled with the combination lock. “No teachers rushing you...”

“Or jerks shoving you out of the way.”

“Or that one couple that just _has_ to make out in front of _your_ locker, like, all the time.” Steve chuckled quietly in agreement. Bucky pulled out the empty duffle bag he had placed in his locker earlier. “I take it back.” He added after a second. “Empty hallways are _awesome_.”

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at Bucky through his long lashes, smiling sheepishly. “You wanna know the best part about it?” He asked in a whisper.

“What?” Bucky replied as he closed his locker.

“No one can stop you from doing this.” And then Steve was kicking off his shoes and sprinting down the hallway in his socked feet. Bucky watched as he slid across the floor, posed like a surfer, before stumbling to a stop. He turned and gave Bucky a brilliant grin.

Bucky shook his head and smiled. “That is so…” He trailed off. Steve looked _stunning_ , hair tousled and eyes bright and innocent. Bucky had never seen him look so carefree before. He’d never seen _anyone_ their age look that carefree before.

“Childish?” Steve called back, laughing when Bucky pouted. “Come on, Barnes. Try it! No one’s watching.”

Bucky set his jaw, crossing his arms and giving Steve a hard look. _I just broke into a school._ He thought. _This is supposed to be serious. I am_ not _doing this. No fucking way._

Steve only smiled back at him in response, rocking back on his heels.

_Fuck it._

Bucky tugged off his shoes and tossed them and Steve’s into the duffle bag, before throwing it over his shoulder and running full speed at the blond on the other side of the hall.

When he was a few feet from Steve, he took a leap and skidded across the floor wildly, his hair whipping behind him and arms flailing, trying to keep his balance.

Steve laughed when Bucky nearly crashed into him and put out his hands to steady the larger boy. Bucky was cackling uncontrollably.

“Told you.” Steve smirked before taking off again, Bucky on his tail. They’d stop and slide every few feet, then stumble back into a run.

“You know,” Bucky panted and they raced up the stairs. “This is not what I expected Captain America to be like.”

“And what were you expecting?” Steve, who was a few steps behind him now, tilted his head in curiosity.

Bucky paused. “I… don’t know.” And he was only half lying. Before, when he had thought of the Captain, he had always imagined some vague, faceless champion, someone who would swoop in to defend truth, justice, and the American way, someone who was never out of line. Bucky imagined that he would look strong and daunting, maybe even handsome- like a superhero out of a comic book.

 But he had never really thought of the Captain as a real _person_.

 Steve _was_ real, however, and he looked nothing like a superhero. He was scrawny and awkward; his features were more delicate than roguish. And he wasn’t really a boy scout either. He picked fights nearly every week, and skipped school, and was, in general, _trouble_. But he was also, as Bucky was beginning to realize, a huge fucking dork.

Bucky wasn’t sure which one he liked better, his fantasy hero or the skinny boy who whooped triumphantly when he reached the top of the stairs first.

They slipped their shoes back on before they entered the library, silence falling over them once more as they pushed the door open. There was something about libraries, Bucky thought, that would always make him scared to talk above a whisper, even if he was the only one around.

Steve fished the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the supply closet. There were a box of books stacked in the back corner, and he made his way over to them. Bucky slid inside after him, but not before checking to make sure no one was going to jump out at them. He may have also checked for spider webs because, well, spiders were awful and he really didn’t want to deal with that.

Bucky crouched next to Steve and began packing the books into his duffle bag. “That’s one of my favorites.” Steve remarked, nodding at the book of poetry in Bucky’s hand. “It’s not a classic, but it’s… daring, I guess. Not what you’d expect.”

Bucky flipped it open and skimmed over a poem titled “A Remorseful Rhyme.”

_You were the best love I ever had_  
 _Then winter came and we grew sad_  
 _I think about you every day_  
 _All the words I wish I could say_  
 _Like,_  
 _“Fuck you.”_  
 _And “fuck rhyme schemes.”_  
 _“Suck my dick, Shakespeare.”_

Bucky snorted and slipped the book into his jacket pocket.

Once the rest of the books were packed, the boys stood and exited the closet, making sure that the door was locked and that everything else was back where they had found it. Steve paused to tape a drawing of the shield to the door, but Bucky pushed on, anxious to get away from the crime scene. His reached for the door handle- and immediately turned and pressed himself flat against the wall when he caught a glimpse of the beam from a flashlight through its tiny window.

“ _Steve!”_ He whispered frantically.

The other boy, who had been checking over his handiwork, quickly made his way over to Bucky.

“What’s wrong?”

Bucky pulled him down and away from the window. “There’s someone in the hall.” Steve’s eyes grew wide. He pushed himself up and peered out through the glass, ignoring Bucky’s whispered protests.

“Shit.” Steve cursed as he dropped back down. “He’s early. Shiiiiiit.” Bucky let his head fall back against the door.

_I’m gonna get arrested. I’ve never even had detention and I’m gonna get fuckin arrested because of some stupid punk kid and his fuckin books._

Steve was running his hands through his hair, frantically trying to come up with a plan.

“The stairs are at the other side of the hall- we’ll never get by him.” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. His words must have triggered something in Steve’s head, because the next second Steve’s eyes snapped up to his and he smiled.

“We don’t need the stairs.” He declared, flashing a brilliant, toothy grin. And then he was scrambling up and across the library, leaving Bucky to watch after him, utterly bewildered.

“What the hell?”

Steve was darting along the walls, glancing out the windows as he passed them. He stopped by one, squinting outside, before motioning to Bucky. “Barnes, bring the bag over.” He obeyed, mostly on auto-pilot at this point, and snuck over to hand him the duffle bag.

Steve took it, before hefting open the window and tossing the bag out. Bucky peering over his shoulder and watched as the duffle crashed into the bushes below.

“What the _hell?”_

Steve stepped back. “Okay. Now you.”

Bucky looked between Steve and the open window with wide eyes. “What?” he managed to choke out.

Steve waved him towards the glass. “It’s okay, there’s a tree right there. You can just grab onto the branches and climb down.”  He assured.

 “ _What?”_

Steve started trying to push him toward the window. “Hurry up!” Bucky -still trying to process that Steve was asking him to climb out of a _fucking_ _second story window_ \- let himself be guided to the edge. He looked out, and yes, there was a sizable branch within reach that was possibly steady enough to hold his weight. Still, to Bucky, it looked like it would snap in half and send him plummeting to the hard ground below.

He looked back at Steve for reassurance. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”  Steve nodded emphatically, still urging Bucky out. “And I’ve only broken something, like, twice, so, it’s fine!” Bucky made a pained noise. “It’s fine, trust me!”

 “You’re crazy!” Bucky cried, digging his heels into the carpet and bracing his arms against the window frame to keep Steve from forcing him out any further.

Steve let out a frustrated sigh. “And you’re gonna get us arrested if you don’t _move_!” He hissed. “Now jump outta the damn window before I push you!”

Reluctantly, Bucky forced his limbs to move. He balanced on the edge of the window, trying his best not to look down as he reached for the branch. It creaked slightly under his weight, but he managed to clamber onto it without it breaking. He edged himself along the length of the bark, his hands gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles were white.

He only relaxed slightly when he reached the base of the branch and clung to the sturdy trunk. He maneuvered himself onto a lower branch and grabbed another above him to keep steady before he motioned Steve over.

Steve scrambled onto the branch gracelessly, his gangly limbs doing nothing to help him balance. Bucky watched as he paused to suck in a sharp breath through his teeth before he began crawling towards Bucky. They both winced whenever the branch shook. Still, Steve’s eyes were determined and he kept calm as he steadily made his way over.

He was only a few inches away when his knee slipped and his tiny body pitched to the side. He cursed and grappled for a better hold as he found himself dangling from the branch upside down, hands gripping the bark and his legs wrapped around it. “I’m fine.” He snapped when Bucky tried to reach out to him. “Keep moving.”

Bucky stayed where he was. Steve’s legs were shaking with the effort of trying to keep ahold of the tree, and they soon slipped again, leaving him swinging only from his arms. He let out another string of quiet curses as his legs kicked in the air, too short to reach the branch below him that Bucky had taken purchase on. His hands were starting to slip too, and his cursing only grew louder.

Without hesitation this time, Bucky reached out and wrapped his free arm around Steve’s torso. He stilled and let Bucky pull him closer, securing him against his chest. Little by little, he started to let go of the branch, until his toes were pressing against the tops of Bucky’s shoes.

He finally released it completely and fell against Bucky only a little as he tried to regain his balance. Steve was flushed and breathless from the climb, and his hands were clutching Bucky’s jacket, and Bucky was holding him too close and he wanted to die, either from mortification or from pure selfish joy, he wanted to die right there with Steve Rogers in his arms.

The branch shook and for a second he was positive that he _would_ die, but it didn’t break. Steve pulled away, smiling at him sheepishly for a brief moment before dropping down onto a lower branch.

“See?” Steve said when they reached the bottom, covered with leaves and a little shaky. “I told you it’d be fine.”

Bucky shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. “You’re fuckin crazy.” He muttered, shoving Steve’s shoulder lightheartedly. Steve only beamed up at him in reply.

They retrieved the duffle bag from the bushes. Steve tried to hoist the thing into his arms, and he stumbled under the weight of it, but he set his jaw determinedly and tried to walk on. He made it two steps before Bucky took the bag and shouldered it easily. “Which way is your house?” Bucky asked.

Steve scowled at him, his arms folded over his chest. “I can make it on my own.”

“I’m sure you can.” Bucky humored him. “But I broke into a school library to get these books, and I don’t wanna lose them because you were walking alone and got mugged.” Steve sighed and the some of the tension left his shoulders.

“Alright.” He yielded, the heat gone out of his voice. He motioned for Bucky to follow him and he complied, falling into step with the boy easily.

The night air was cool and crisp, the kind that made Bucky wish he could stay outside forever and do nothing but breathe it in. The only sound was the steady thud of their footsteps and the occasional roar of car motors as they sped past. Bucky was still bursting with adrenaline; it was coiling in his bones, different from the nervous energy that had always urged him to run away. This feeling was pure, careless. It made him want to run _towards_ the night head on.

 Then he looked down at Steve, strolling peacefully with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he felt everything inside him still.

Steve would glance up at him and smile every now and again, release one of his hands from the confines of his pockets to brush his unruly bangs out of his face. Bucky wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked. He imagined running his hands through the golden tresses, his hands coming to rest at the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him in-

-and he stopped himself. It might have been okay to think those things when Steve was just a dumb punk from his art class, but now he _knew_ him. Now he was _real_ , and Bucky couldn’t have those feelings, because then they’d be real too.

And that part of him- that _couldn’t_ be real.

Bucky suddenly wanted to run away again.

They were near the outskirts of the town when Steve nudged his arm, and the waters inside him were calm again, for the moment. Bucky inclined his head, waiting for Steve to speak, but he looked away, worrying his lip. He cleared his throat, and Bucky could have sworn he looked nervous.

“Um, you know,” He started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “If you ever wanted to… _help_ me again, that’s alright.” Bucky blinked in surprise, and yeah, Steve was _blushing_. “I understand if you don’t want to of course, after this cluster-fuck.” He added hurriedly, before shrugging and looking down at his hands. “I just… it’s nice to be part of a team again, that’s all.”

 _Team?_ That interested Bucky enough to drag him out of his stupor. “Again?” he prompted. “What does that mean?” Steve smirked at him.

“You didn’t really think I was smart enough to come up with _all_ of those plans, did you?” He gave himself a self-depreciating chuckle, kicking at a pebble that was in his path. “I had a friend who used to help me out.” He explained. He wouldn’t look up at Bucky, but his voice sounded sad. “She was great, but she graduated last year so… I’m on my own now.”

And it suddenly hit Bucky- he’d never seen Steve talk to anyone else during class. He’d never seen him in the hallway laughing with other kids. He ate lunch in an empty art room, with only pencil and paper to keep him company.

Steve was alone. Just as alone as Bucky felt when he sat at a lunch table crowded with people trying to talk to him all at once.

Bucky reached down and placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I think you’re stuck with me now.” He joked, a small grin stretching his face. “Sorry.”

Steve gazed up at him from underneath those damn long lashes, smiling hopefully. “You sure? I thought I might have freaked you out with the tree thing…”

Bucky scoffed. “You kidding me? That was easy. No big deal. I only almost died maybe _once_.” Steve rolled his eyes, and Bucky grinned back, giving him a gentle push. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

Steve regarded him with a content smile. “Thank you, James.”

“Bucky.” He responded almost automatically. Steve glanced up at him curiously so he pressed on. “My friends call me Bucky.”

Steve smiled. It was small, but it was warm, and some of the mischief returned to his eyes. “Friends, huh? Is that what we are now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know.” He admitted sheepishly. “Guess that’s up to you.” He knocked his shoulder into Steve’s and grinned at him. “What I _do_ know is that I just climbed out of a window, so the least you could do is stop calling me by that awful name.”

Steve studied him for a moment, trying to hide a smile, before he nodded decidedly. “Alright. Bucky it is then.”

Bucky turned away to hide his smile, surprised by how pleased he was to hear his name on Steve’s lips. Yeah, that was something he could get used to. They walked on in companionable silence until Steve stopped in front of a small rundown apartment. The streetlight closest to them was flickering, but Bucky could still make out the peeling paint on the walls and the overgrown yard.

Steve held out his hand for the bag, and Bucky handed it over wordlessly, deciding it was better to keep his mouth shut about Steve’s apparent living conditions. Steve didn’t seem bothered by the dingy environment, so Bucky decided not to be either.

Steve shouldered the bag and held out his hand politely. Bucky stared at it for a minute before catching on and rolling his eyes. He couldn’t believe Captain Freakin America was such a dork, but he shook his hand anyways. He could be polite too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Steve asked as he dropped his hand. “I heard Arthur Douglas call a girl a ‘whore’ in the hall yesterday, so we need to figure out how to deal with him.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck nervously. As much as he appreciated Steve’s almost immediate willingness to refer to them as ‘we’, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be seen with him at school. If the guys caught him… “I don’t know if that’d be a good idea.”

Steve pursed his lips but nodded all the same. “You’re probably right. Best not to discuss Captain America stuff where other people can hear.” He frowned at the ground, worrying his lip again. “We can meet in the art room.” He suggested, his face open and hopeful. “During lunch maybe? Nobody really comes in there anymore since the ramen, uh, _mysteriously_ disappeared.”

Bucky chuckled, partially at Steve’s joke and partially out of relief. “Sounds perfect. I’ll see you there.”

He waved and turned to go, but he only made it a few steps before he stopped. He sighed and glanced back over his shoulder, where Steve was starting up the driveway, his head high even as he struggled under the weight of Bucky’ duffle bag.

The question that had been looming at the back of his mind the entire night was forcing itself past his barriers, and he knew he couldn’t go home until he had an answer.

“Steve?” The blond turned back around, giving a small “hmm?” to let Bucky know he had his attention. Bucky dropped his gaze to his shuffling feet, feeling his face grow hot. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to let me help?”

Steve smiled back at him, softer and sadder that his normal mischievous grins. “You’re angry, aren’t you?” Bucky whipped his head up at the surprisingly tender voice.

“There’s so much bullshit in the world.” Steve pressed on, his face growing harder. “It seems like everyone else is happy to ignore it, but you _can’t_. It’s not fair, it’s not _right_. But it just keeps piling up until you feel like you’re drowning. Like you’re just so fucking _helpless_.” He spat the words at the ground, something behind his eyes growing darker.

 “You try to push it down, ignore it, but it’s always there. Always threatening to boil over. And you just… you just wish you could do something to fix it.” He paused, blue eyes searching Bucky’s. “Is that right?”

Bucky nodded slowly, dumbfounded. “How did you… how did you know that?” He rasped out, wide eyes unable to look away from the blond boy who may or may not have been a mind reader.

Steve’s mouth curled up into a devilish grin, the kind little kids get when they’re about to share a secret.

“I’m angry too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No picture this time, sorry :(  
> But I'll make up for it next chapter!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Mission: Flies on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets to know Steve. Natasha continues to know everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez, this chapter wasn’t supposed to take this long, I swear. Sorry guys, school got crazy for a bit, I had to study for the ACT, and I can’t remember the last time I went to sleep before midnight, but IT’S HERE NOW
> 
> Thank you guys for waiting so long and for the lovely comments. I love you all!  
> And, as always, thank you to my Tony for beta-ing this chapter for me. (I love her the most.)

 Natasha Romanoff was the most feared girl in all of Brooklyn High.

It wasn’t because she had broken a boy’s arm in three places after he grabbed her ass. It wasn’t because she knew every dirty little secret in school and was fully prepared to use them to her advantage.

No, Natasha was terrifying because she didn’t _fit._

Bucky had a theory. He had already established that high school was a cruel and unforgiving thing; a system designed to turn kids against one another. In order to survive, most students fell into one of three categories. There were kids like Rumlow, who were able to escape a majority of the awfulness by being so awful that no one wanted to mess with them. There were many like Bucky, who sacrificed their morals and much of their individuality in order to avoid conflicts. And then there were kids like Steve, kids who either couldn’t or wouldn’t conform… and got shit on for it.

Natasha, however, had somehow eluded the social hierarchy of high school. She talked to the wrong people, said the wrong things, and laughed in the faces of those who most kids wouldn’t even dream of challenging. Yet she was never persecuted. In fact, many of the students were content to give her a respectful distance.

The fact was, Natasha Romanoff did not give a single flying fuck-

-and Bucky _loved_ her for it.

Platonically, of course, though they had tried to date the year before.

 It had seemed like a good idea at the time, what with Bucky’s charming smile and Natasha’s stunning looks and sharp wit. It also helped that her uncanny invincibility didn’t place a risk to Bucky’s social status. Naturally, it had been a disaster.

The breakup was a dramatic and tumultuous affair. After bickering nonstop for weeks, Natasha finally told him that she could not date such an ass-kissing, cowardly, excuse for a human being, Bucky called her a lying, manipulative, bitch, she threw a hairdryer at his head, and they had been best friends ever since.

However, that did not mean that he appreciated her sudden interest in his personal life in the middle of class.

“You look _chipper_ this morning, James.” Natasha smirked at him from across her desk.

Bucky sighed. _One day_ , he would be able to do his AP Physics work in peace, but it was apparently not today. “You’re mistaken, _Natalia_. I’m always this happy.” Bucky replied, pulling his face into a scowl just to spite her. She rolled her eyes at him.

“ _Sure_ you are. You’re just a ball of sunshine.”

Bucky was about to snap a reply when someone nudged him from the other side. He turned to see a sandy haired boy covered in bandages smirking back at him. _Oh fuck. I’m being assaulted from both sides aren’t I?_

“She’s right. You are acting different.” The boy mused, taking a sip from his coffee. _Who drinks coffee at 11:30?_ Bucky thought sharply.

Natasha leaned over Bucky’s desk. “Hey Clint, did you know Bucky wasn’t home last night?” She fake whispered to him as if telling a secret, pretending that Bucky wasn’t sitting between them and could hear every word.

“No I _didn’t_ , Natasha.” Clint fake whispered back, making a scandalized gesture. “That is very _interesting_ information.”

"I was on a date, you assholes.” Bucky snapped.

It was a lie, of course. Bucky had actually been with Steve the night before, completing another ‘mission’. A prank that had seemed fool-proof until Bucky had dropped some of the water balloons they’d been stuffing in the target’s locker directly onto his own crotch. Which had kind of sucked, but it had also caused Steve to double over in laughter. So Bucky thought it was worth it.

Steve’s laugh, the low chuckle that rose impressively in pitch as he dissolved into hysteric cackles, was probably the best sound Bucky had ever heard. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

He quickly willed the expression away, chiding himself for acting so stupid over something so small. “How’d you know I was gone anyways?” He asked Natasha, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“I have my ways.” She answered with a wink, before tossing her hair and setting back to work.

“She has spies everywhere.” Clint whispered to him, conspiratorially. He wiggled his fingers in front of his own face, trying to set the spooky tone. “She has connections man. Secret spy connections. There’s probably a sniper trained on us right now.”

Bucky shoved him away. “Jesus Christ, Barton. You’re a fucking idiot. How did you even get into this class?” He knew it was harsh, but he couldn’t help it. Natasha and Clint _knew_ him, the _real_ him. When Bucky was around them, he didn’t have to keep up his happy-go-lucky Boy Scout act. He could let down his walls a little; say what was really on his mind without fearing that they would spread rumors about him. Unfortunately, letting loose usually meant he ended up acting like an asshole.

Clint let out an indignant noise, but didn’t actually look too offended. “Hey man, you take that back. I know me some physics, alright?” He protested, giving an exaggerated wink.

“Well, you apparently don’t know any English.” Bucky snapped back lightly with a smirk.

“Speaking of which, James,” and Natasha was probably the only person Bucky would allow to call him by his first name -mostly because he was too scared to argue. “I need you to proofread my essay. Can you go over it during lunch?”

Bucky had already agreed to meet Steve in the art room. He shook his head, smiling apologetically. “Sorry Nat. I’m eating lunch with Rumlow and the guys.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Ugh, when are you going to stop hanging out with those creeps?” She asked crossly, flopping back into her chair.

 Bucky let the comment slide. Natasha had made it clear several times before that she didn’t approve of his company, but he knew she understood his reasons, even if she didn’t like them. He didn’t want to fight her about it now. Instead he grinned coolly back at her. “I don’t know. When are you gonna admit that you and Clint are secretly in love with each other?”

He got two separate kicks under the table for his trouble, but at least they left him alone after that.

* * *

 

“We could attach an air horn to his chair!”

“Too similar to the whoopie cushion prank.”

“Cover his desk in wrapping paper?”

“Did that last Christmas.”

Bucky dropped his head into his hands. They had been trying to decide on their plan for almost half an hour, and so far Steve had shot down every suggestion he’d made. “Come on man.” He whined, rolling his head to the side to pin Steve with pleading eyes. “You’ve gotta give me some help here.”

 “Oh really?” Steve smirked, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up from his sketchbook. “I thought you were tired of me coming up with all the plans. Didn’t you say you wanted a turn being the evil mastermind?”

Bucky groaned. “But this isn’t fair.” He protested, drawing the last word out pitifully. “Teachers are _different_ , man. There’s not much you can do to a teacher without getting caught.” Steve raised an eyebrow at him, and Bucky gave him an exaggerated pout. Steve just chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“If you can’t come up with an idea by the end of lunch, I’ll help you think of something.” Steve relented, going back to his work. He frowned and erased something hastily. “Right now I need to work on this project.”

Bucky stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth grumpily. There was no way he’d think of something in the next thirty minutes. Steve had already proven that he was a better evil master mind, why couldn’t he quit drawing it out and just _help_ Bucky already?

Having given up for the time being, Bucky tried to steal a look at whatever Steve was working on. “What’s this big project anyways?” He asked around a mouthful of food.

Steve was always drawing. Every time they met in the art room, he would sit across from Bucky and sketch away, usually forgetting most of his lunch until five minutes before the warning bell. But Bucky had never seen what was on any of the pages. He’d thought if Steve wanted to show him he would, but after almost a month of watching him draw, Bucky was beginning to get curious.

Steve clutched his sketchbook to his chest. “It’s just something for art.” He muttered, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, I got that.” Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, edging closer. He held out his hand, watching Steve carefully. “Can I see?”

There was a long beat of hesitation before Steve gave a little nod. “I-I guess.” He said, slowly loosening his grip on the book. He set it down flat on the table and pushed it towards Bucky, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not gonna be that great…”

Bucky flipped the book around, careful not to smudge the graphite. “ _Jesus,_ Steve.” He breathed out, taking the picture in. “This is incredible.” And Bucky had told a lot of lies in his life, but this wasn’t one. The drawing was beautiful, the delicate lines of graphite coming together to form the shape of a young woman standing on a hilltop, the folds of her dress billowing gently in the breeze. The scene was so peaceful and exquisitely detailed; Bucky didn’t want to look away. “Just fuckin’ incredible.”

“It’s garbage is what it is.” Steve grumbled, and Bucky frowned. Steve let out a frustrated little noise and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m supposed to be doing a portrait that depicts joy, but all I can work from are pictures from magazines and it- it just doesn’t have any _life_ to it, you know?” Bucky didn’t. He thought the drawing was perfect, but he shrugged and handed it back anyways.

“You’re really good you know.” He told him. Steve just blushed and shook his head, so Bucky pressed on. “No, I’m serious. You’re the best I’ve ever seen. You’re going to college for that, right?”

Steve shook his head. “Can’t afford it.” He muttered quietly.

Bucky nodded and decided to drop the subject. He handed the sketchbook back to Steve with a small smile. “Still, that’s  pretty amazing.”

Steve waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Quit procrastinating and give me a plan already.” He joked. Bucky crossed his arms and slumped back into his seat, racking his brain for possible pranks.

“We could replace his hand sanitizer with lube.”

Steve pulled a face. “Everyone in that classroom uses the hand sanitizer.”

“Well, at least they’ll be prepared!”

“Gross.”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “I don’t know man. I liked the water balloons prank. Why can’t we do that?”

“Because teachers don’t have lockers?” Steve countered, raising an eyebrow at him. “Come on Buck, be more creative.” Bucky stuck out his tongue.

They startled when they heard the door click shut. The sound echoed through the room, making Bucky’s blood freeze.

“So this is your date.” The familiar voice teased. Bucky turned to see Natasha leaning against the door, arms crossed, triumphant smirk lighting up her face.

Bucky suddenly realized how close he was leaning to Steve and jumped back, his face red. “Nat, it’s- it’s not what you think.”

“Oh really? Because it looks like you’ve been helping Captain America stuff water balloons in kids’ lockers.”

_Oh yeah, in that case it’s exactly what you think it is._

Steve was already staring her down. “You can’t prove anything.” He told her, narrowing his eyes. Natasha glared right back. Bucky had no idea how Steve wasn’t withering under her icy gaze.

“I suppose you’re right.” She relented after a moment, shrugging easily. “But if you _were_ Captain America, you’d want to give those who deserved it a taste of their own medicine, right?”

Steve regarded her warily for a moment, before slowly answering. “I suppose.”

Bucky watched with anxious curiosity as Natasha’s smirk grew bigger. “But you couldn’t possibly know every time some jerk pushes a kid into a locker, right?”

“No,” Steve replied, worrying his bottom lip. Bucky could see the gears turning in his mind already as he processed her words. “I suppose we couldn’t.”

“But you could, you know. If you knew the right person.” She added with a flippant shrug, looking away from Steve to examine her perfectly painted nails. “Someone who has eyes all over the school. Someone who knows everything about everyone. _She_ could let you know who and when to strike.” She let the unsaid offer hang in the air. Steve stared at her, brow furrowed as if he was trying to decide whether or not to trust her.

Natasha whipped her gaze back up to them and flashed a vicious grin. “If you _were_ Captain America, that is.” And then she was gone.

The boys stared after her in stunned silence. “Well that was weird.” Steve said finally, eyes still glued to the door.

“Yeah.”

 “Did you know her?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned back to face him.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded, and then shook his head, trying to pull himself out of his daze. “Yeah, she’s a friend of mine. Her name’s Natasha.” Steve’s eyes widened and Bucky groaned and covered his face, realization dawning on him that Steve’s secret had been revealed again and it was Bucky’s fault. Steve was pretty out of the loop, but even _he_ knew about Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha probably wouldn’t use the information against them. Probably. But Natasha was also unpredictable, and Bucky could never tell what her angle was. He could only imagine how Steve felt, knowing that the most dangerous girl in school could now ruin them both.

“Do you think she’ll tell anyone?” Steve asked quietly, as if he were afraid that if he spoke louder, she would come back.

“I don’t know.” Bucky whispered back, voice tight and near-hysteric. “I’m so sorry Steve, I didn’t know that she’d _follow_ me, holy _shit_.”

“It’s-It’s okay.” Steve tried to force a comforting smile. “She’s your friend right? I’m sure she wouldn’t do anything that would get you in trouble.” Bucky gave him a disbelieving look, but Steve shrugged it off. “Besides, that sounded more like a proposition than a threat.”

Bucky bit his lip, but nodded slowly. Steve was probably right. Natasha had something planned, that was for sure, but whatever it was probably wouldn’t involve her blabbing their secret to the whole school and getting them beat to death. Bucky was too valuable for that. She still needed him to proof read her essay, right?

Ah fuck. Now he actually had to proofread her essay, didn’t he?

Bucky let some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Whatever she wants, it can’t be that bad. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Steve hummed in agreement, staring at the doorway thoughtfully.

Bucky had nearly finished his lunch when Steve suddenly turned back to him with a curious smile.

“So, what did she mean by the whole ‘date’ thing?”

Who knew it was possible to choke on mashed potatoes?

* * *

 

“You are an evil woman.” He told Natasha later that night. He listened to her gleeful (evil) laughter over the phone as he paced nervously around his bedroom.

" _So that’s Captain America, huh?”_ She asked after she calmed down. There was no mocking or menace in her voice, only innocent curiosity. It still rubbed Bucky the wrong way.

“Nat I swear to god-”

_“Relax, James. I won’t tell anyone.”_

He breathed out a sigh of relief and flopped down onto his bed. “Good. Thank you.”

There was silence at the other end of the line for a moment, and Bucky hoped that that was the end of it. But as he was beginning to realize, hope was futile.

 _“So…”_ Natasha drawled; the smirk that was undoubtedly on her face evident in her voice. “ _How long have you two been together?”_

Bucky felt his face go red and cursed her choice of words. “Nat-”

 _“I’m just curious!”_ She cut off his exasperated sigh. _“I never thought_ you’d _be the first to find out who the Captain was, even if you_ are _his biggest fan.”_

He wondered if he was that obvious to everyone, but then again, Natasha was more perceptive than most. And she knew _Bucky_ better than most.

But she couldn’t know everything.

“God, Nat, _I am not_.” He grumbled. “I just help him with the prankster stuff sometimes. Come on, drop it.”

 _“I like him.”_ She told him after a minute of thought. _“He seems nice.”_

Bucky sighed and dropped his head back onto his pillow, throwing his arm over his face. “What do you even _want_?” He groaned, slightly muffled by his shirt.

 _“I just want to be helpful.”_ He could almost see her green eyes widening with faux innocence.

“No, no, there’s always an ulterior motive.” Bucky replied harshly. “I know how you work.”

Over the phone, Natasha gave a little hum. “You have your reasons, James, and I have mine. We’ll leave it at that.”

* * *

 

Two days later, Bucky had almost forgotten about their conversation. He was rushing to the art room, late for lunch with Steve because Hodge could _not_ shut up for five minutes. The guy had grabbed Bucky as soon as the bell had rung and dragged him along as he bragged about some girl he was supposedly dating now. Bucky had only half listened, and by the time Hodge had taken a breath and Bucky had excused himself to go to the restroom the lunch break was already half over.

Steve glanced up as the door swung open. He was still working on his art project, but it seemed to have changed. Bucky couldn’t get a good look. He smiled when he saw Bucky’s ruffled state, and Bucky could already feel himself relaxing just by having Steve’s eyes on him.

“Your friend stopped by again.” Steve said, and Bucky felt some of the tension return to his body.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Aw Geez I’m sorry.” He muttered, cringing as he imagined the kind of things she must have said. He had a strange feeling that most of them would have been threats.

Steve shook his head. “No, no, It’s okay. She actually helped me set up a new mission.”

Bucky looked up at him from between his fingers. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded and grinned at him emphatically.  “We talked while you were… wherever you were. She’s really not _that_ scary.” He gave a nervous laugh and Bucky swore Steve’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “I like her.”

“Well ain’t that just _adorable_.” Bucky muttered, more venom in his words than he’d intended. He was already surly from his earlier encounter with Hodge, but there was something about Steve’s tone that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 _Natasha_ could probably come up with cool pranks. God, why would Steve even need him with a brilliant mind like hers?

Steve must have seen something underneath Bucky’s sullenness, because his expression softened. “Aw, don’t be jealous Buck.” He joked, smiling warmly. “Natasha said she just wanted to be a ‘consultant’. You’re still my partner in crime.”

 Bucky stiffened, mentally kicking himself for being so obvious. Steve peered at him carefully. “You’re not really jealous are you?” He asked, his expression suddenly serious.

“Why would I be jealous?” Bucky snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he dropped into his seat. He was _not_ jealous. He had no reason to be jealous. Steve could talk to whoever he wanted to. Hell, he could fall head over heels for Natasha if he wanted, lots of guys had already. No one was stopping him. No one would fucking _care_ , especially not Bucky.

Steve rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. “I just, I heard that you and Natasha used to be a thing.” He murmured, blush creeping up his neck. “I didn’t know you still-”

Oh, _oh_. Steve thought he still had feelings for Natasha. Steve thought Bucky was upset with him for talking to his ex-girlfriend.

Well, he had to admit it would be the logical assumption.

Steve seemed to take his silence as conformation, and his eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think- I’d never- If you really-” Bucky was so relieved that he didn’t think to stop him as he continued to babble out apologies. “Please don’t think I was hitting on her or anything. I mean, she’s nice but she’s not-” His face was almost comically red, and he was starting to stumble over his words.

Bucky waved his hands, unwilling to let Steve get any more worked up over it. “No, Steve. It’s not like that with her.” He assured the blushing boy. “I mean, we dated a couple months during sophomore year, but we’re just friends now, that’s all.” He saw Steve visibly relax, apparently glad that he hadn’t been treading on Bucky’s feelings.

“Really? Just friends.”

 Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah. Natasha’s like my sister. A terrifying, meddling sister.” He added with a grimace.

Steve let out a small, relieved laugh, and Bucky echoed him. He had to admit, the situation _was_ kind of funny. To an outsider it might have made sense that Bucky could still have a thing for Nat, but to Bucky it was absurd. But the way Steve had gotten so flustered about it was absolutely adorable.

Wait, no, _not_ adorable. Bucky did not call guys adorable. That was not a thing.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” Bucky said after a moment. “Had a rough morning.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s fine. I was just worried I’d pissed you off.” He looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes, timid, but sincere.  “I mean, I wouldn’t have tried anything _anyways_ , but I know how much it sucks to watch someone flirt with the girl you like. I wouldn’t want to do that to you.”

Bucky shifted under the warmth of Steve’s gaze. He poked Steve playfully in the chest, trying to lighten the mood. “What’dya mean you wouldn’t try anything? You saying my Natasha’s not good enough for you?” He fixed Steve with his best attempt at a serious glare, but he was smiling behind it.

Steve chuckled ruefully. “No, it’s not that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly looking self-conscious. “I uh, I’m not really that great at talking to girls when it’s not about pranks, that’s all.” He admitted quietly. Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he elected not to say anything.

 A gloomy expression darkened Steve’s features for only a moment before he began leaning toward Bucky with a conspiratorial grin.  “Between you and me,” Steve stage whispered. “She kinda scares me.”

Bucky let out a bark of a laugh. Soon they were setting to work, using Bucky’s smartphone to look up their next “target” on Facebook.

“So this is the guy Nat told you about?” Bucky inquired as he scrolled through several pictures of the same shirtless guy with a dumb hat.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered, nodding as he looked over Bucky’s shoulder at the screen. “Real gentleman, that one.”

“What he do?”

“According to Nat, he’s been asking several girls to send him nudes on Facebook. Most of them are underage, too.” Steve leaned back, shaking his head. “Doesn’t like to take no for an answer either. He’s been harassing a lot of them. When they still said no, he talked shit about them.”

Bucky read over some such statues.

“What a fuckin creep.” He hissed, resisting the urge to throw his phone away in disgust.

“That’s nothing. Nat showed me some of the messages.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Okay, I’m sold. I wanna get this guy.” He put his phone away and turned back to Steve, who had already donned a look of intense focus. “How’re we gonna do this?”

“I’m not sure yet” the blond mused, tapping his pencil on the table. He paused and looked up at Bucky with a dark grin. “but I want to make it something really awful.”

He was looking at Bucky expectantly, and Bucky wished he wouldn’t. He was no good at making up plans, they had established that already. Still, he tried to search his mind for a good enough idea.

 “Okay,” He began after a minute, brows furrowed in concentration. “so we…hide a dead skunk in his car. That’ll make his life miserable, right?” Steve shook his head, and Bucky let out a sigh of frustration.

“ _Fine._ What’s the best way to get revenge here?”

Steve regarded him with a hard look, the kind he usually only saw on adults before he was lectured, and Bucky resisted shrinking back. It was completely unfair how a boy who couldn’t be more than 5’4” could make him feels so small sometimes.

“It’s not about revenge, it’s about _justice_.” Steve held his attention with a steely gaze that bore into Bucky’s eyes. “We want to teach him a lesson. We need to choose something that lets him know what he’s being punished for, so he’ll learn not to do it again.”

Suddenly, Bucky had a stroke of genius. He grinned at Steve mischievously, who blinked at him in surprise before breaking out into a pleased smile.

“You have an idea?” The blond asked him, leaning forward eagerly. Bucky nodded distractedly; already formulating his plan.

Just as he opened his mouth to describe it, the bell rang, surprising them both. He turned to Steve excitedly, his words coming out in a babbling rush as he explained as fast as he possibly could.

“Okay, we’re gonna need a computer and a printer, but we can’t use the ones at school.”

“I have a desktop at home.” Steve suggested. “Or if you have one-”

“No!” Bucky protested, a little too quickly. If his parents met Steve, little punk Steve with his pierced ears and always bloody knuckles-

He struggled to regain his composure, giving Steve an easy smile. “It’s crazy at my house, yours is fine.”

The blond merely shrugged in agreement. “Anything else?” He asked as he began packing up his things. “What’s this big plan of yours?”

Bucky glanced up at the clock and shook his head. “Not enough time. I’ll tell you later.”

“Bucky-”

“Trust me Steve, it’s gonna be great!” He assured the smaller boy as he turned to leave. Steve sighed, but nodded with a smile. Bucky grinned, before pausing and turning back, a question on his lips.

“Oh yeah, do you know how to use Photoshop?”

* * *

 

“What the _hell_ is that?” Steve shouted, face red as he pointed to his computer screen while simultaneously trying to avoid looking at it.

“Porn.” Bucky answered evenly, not looking up from his google search. “What did you think it was?”

 “Why are you looking that up on _my_ computer?” He gritted out from between his teeth.

“Everything at my house is blocked. And it’s not like we can look this up in the library.” Steve let out a strangled noise. Bucky tried not to smile, but he had to admit, getting the blond riled up like this was hilarious. He leaned back in Steve’s worn out desk chair, careful not put too much weight on its unsteady back leg.

 “Relax Stevie, you act like you’ve never seen a dick before.”

Steve crossed his arms, scowling at the nickname. “I see one every day. In fact, he’s sitting in my goddamn chair.”

Bucky winked at him. “Don’t worry, pal, it’s all part of the mission.” Steve groaned and flopped onto his bed, nearly knocking over a stack of records in the process.

“Geez, okay, but if you get me stuck with a computer virus I swear I’ll kill you and hide the body.” Steve’s face was impossibly red, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“Aw, is bad ass rebel Captain America too embarrassed to see a few naked dudes?” He teased. Steve threw an eraser at him.

“Shut up! I don’t wanna stare at some random guy’s junk, okay?”

“It’s just a dick, dude. They’re all over the internet.” Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “Jesus, it’s like you’ve never looked at porn before.”

 Somehow, Steve face went even redder, and he looked away nervously. The smile dropped from Bucky’s face as he stared at the boy with wide eyes. “Holy _shit_. You haven’t, have you?”

“Of course I have!” The blond snapped. “I just don’t actively go looking for it.”

 “Dude, everyone watches porn, it’s okay.”

“I don’t. I don’t like it. I feel like I’m invading someone’s privacy.” He fiddled with a loose thread on his comforter, his voice quiet. “Besides, most of it is just creepy violent power-fantasy crap. I’m just not into it, that’s all.” He tried to keep his tone casual, but his shoulders were tense. Bucky decided to drop it.

 “To each his own I guess.” He said with a shrug. He turned back to the desktop and began downloading pictures, with Steve’s muffled cries of horror in the background.

Once he had downloaded an acceptable amount of pornography onto his friend’s computer, along with several selfies from Target Douchebag’s Facebook photos, he brought up Photoshop and offered the chair to Steve. With a sigh, he slid into it and set to work, muttering under his breath.

Bucky pulled out his lighter and the pack of cigarettes Hodge had given him. “Hey, is it alright if I smoke in here?”

 Steve glanced up with a weary look in his eyes. Bucky thought he was going to refuse, but the blond only shrugged. “Just open a window.” He said, before opening a picture of target douchebag.

Bucky sighed in thanks and obliged, pushing open the creaky window next to him. He sat on the desk next to Steve, his legs crossed and cigarette dangling from his lips as he glanced around the room. In his haste to begin working on their mission, Bucky hadn’t given himself the chance to look around much.

Steve’s bedroom was small, like the rest of his house. The wallpaper was tacky and faded, and the light above them flickered. But even though Steve’s room was just as unorganized as every other teenaged boy’s, it looked cared for. The wooden furniture was chipped and worn.  Steve’s bookshelves were packed tight with novels with creased spines and distressed edges. There was a basket of art supplies on top of one shelf, filled with fraying brushes and nearly empty tubes of paint.

There were sketchbooks scattered everywhere, and in the corner was a haphazard stack of old albums and an honest to god record player that Steve said used to be his father’s. His walls were covered in posters, pages from magazines, and what he assumed to be Steve’s own drawings, hung up with tape and the occasional thumbtack. There was one framed portrait, however. It showed a smiling man and a beautiful young woman holding a little blond bundle in their arms.

Nothing in Steve’s house was shiny or new or perfect, and Bucky _loved_ it. Something about it felt warm and familiar. It felt like an actual _home_ , instead of a page from an Ikea catalogue.

Steve was working on Photoshopping Target Douchebag’s face onto a _very_ flexible porn star now, his face still slightly red. Bucky repressed a laugh when he noticed that Steve had the picture carefully zoomed in so that the man’s privates were out of the frame while he worked. Bucky watched him make a few more pictures like that, but soon became bored. With a malevolent grin, he leaned over, grabbed the mouse, and zoomed out, giving Steve an eyeful of cock.

Steve sputtered and pushed him away, hurriedly zooming back in on the face. Bucky laughed but backed off. It only lasted for a moment however, before he reached back over and scrolled down, so that the picture was zoomed in on the man’s penis.

“Cut it out!” Steve barked, batting his hand away. Bucky retreated, noting the new shade of red his friend had turned with a satisfied smirk. Steve, now paranoid, kept glaring at him out of the corner of his eyes while he worked. Bucky smiled and pretended to observe the walls, whistling innocently. Just as Steve looked away, he began slowly inching his hand toward the mouse.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Steve fucking _growled_ at him, eyes still fixed on the screen. It would have been more intimidating if his cheeks weren’t such a bright shade of pink. “I’m warnin ya, Barnes…”

“I ain’t doing anything!” Bucky protested, throwing his hands up in the air and faking his best hurt expression. Steve narrowed his eyes and actually wagged his finger at him.

“I swear to god if you don’t knock it off-”

“I’m just playin around.” Bucky laughed, nudging his shoulder good naturedly. The blond just glared at him harder. Bucky sat back and rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll  quit, I promise.”

Steve thanked him and turned back to the computer. Bucky waited a full thirty seconds, before darting out his arm and clicking to zoom out.

Steve lunged at him without warning, knocking him to the ground with a yell. Bucky barely got a second to recover before the boy began beating him mercilessly with a pillow.

“Hey no! Ack! Mercy! _Mercy_ , you punk!” Bucky cried as he lifted his arms to protect his face. His only answer was Steve’s wild cackling. Having no choice but to drop his cigarette in order to defend himself, Bucky reached up to make a grab for the pillow. He latched on and gave it a sharp tug, pulling Steve along with it, who landed in a tangle of bony limbs on Bucky’s chest.

 In a flash Bucky had flipped them over and pinned the blond beneath him. He grinned down at Steve, giggling and struggling, his face dusted pink but his eyes bright and smile wide. His laughter echoed around the room as he feebly tried to dislodge Bucky with the pillow.

Bucky dodged the blow and leveled Steve with a mischievous look. “You’ve done it now, punk.” He chuckled as his hands ruthlessly tickled under Steve’s ribs. The blond shrieked and squirmed, but Bucky was a man on a mission, and that mission involved tickling Steve until he begged for mercy.

“Getoffame you jerk!” Steve huffed between giggles.  He threw his head back as Bucky hit a particularly sensitive spot on his side. His hair almost caught on Bucky’s dropped cigarette, still lit, the smoke curling around them. “Come on, Bucky!” he pleaded, the bright smile never leaving his face as he writhed beneath Bucky’s ruthless hands. Bucky’s clothes were rumpled and dirty from wrestling on the floor and Steve’s hair was sticking up everywhere, but they were both gasping with laughter.

“Buck-!”

Suddenly, Steve stopped laughing. His eyes went wide with panic and he tried to move his mouth, but no sound came out. Bucky stopped immediately and grabbed his shoulders.

“Steve? You okay, pal?” The boy beneath him shook his head, letting out a strangled gasp as he pawed at his collar. He began feebly pushing at Bucky, and he obligingly fell back to let him up.

Steve rolled onto his side, coughing and wheezing. “Desk. Bottom left drawer.” He gasped out, and Bucky sprang into action. He pulled it open with too much force, not sure what he was looking for as he dug through old papers, pens, CDs-

At the sight of an inhaler everything clicked. Bucky grabbed it before dropping to his knees, lifting Steve’s slim form up to meet him as he babbled apologies.

“Shit! Stevie ya shoulda told me! I’m so sorry goddamn- here just-just take this.” Slender hands pried the inhaler from his grasp and lifted it to his own lips. He took a puff and collapsed against Bucky in relief as the medicine flooded his body. Bucky lowered both of them until they were sitting with their backs against the desk, Bucky’s arm still curled around Steve as he rubbed comforting circles into his back.

“That’s good.” Bucky murmured, wanting to help but still feeling immensely out of his depth. “Just- just breathe and you’ll be fine.” He could feel Steve’s heaving chest begin to calm as his breathing evened out. Slowly, the blond opened his eyes and glanced up at Bucky blearily. Steve smiled a little bashfully before pulling back, his face still red.

“Thank you.” He sighed, his voice still rough. Bucky, assured that Steve was alright for the moment, stood to stomp out his dropped cigarette and toss it out the window hurriedly. When he plopped back down in front of him, Steve had his arms around his knees and his head leaned back against the desk, inhaler still clutched in one hand.

“I’m really sorry, man.” Bucky said after a minute, eyes cast on the ground. “I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have smoked if-” Steve waved him off and Bucky fell silent.

“’S not your fault my lungs are shit.” Steve told him, huffing out a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Bucky did worry. Steve hadn’t been able to _breathe_ and it _was_ his fault. He bit his lip and brought his legs up to his chest, curling around them. Goddammit, why he did always do everything _wrong?_

“Buck,” He heard Steve sigh. His voice was sounding stronger now, but Bucky still didn’t look up. “Bucky, hey, look at me.” Slowly he lifted his eyes and Steve met him with a small smile. “I’m _fine_ , okay? It happens.”

Bucky just nodded. “Sorry.” He said again, wondering if he should start apologizing for apologizing too much. “Do you need anything?”

“Cold water sometimes helps.” Steve suggested after a moment, rubbing his neck absently. “There’re some glasses above the sink, if you don’t mind.” Bucky retrieved the water and gave it to Steve silently. He gulped it down, glancing at Bucky curiously over the glass. He set the empty cup down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching as Bucky shuffled from foot to foot.

“I’m alright, you know.” Steve told him. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves just because I had an attack. Actually, you really shouldn’t, cause I’ll probably hit you.” Bucky finally tore his gaze away from the floor and dragged his eyes back up to Steve. The blond smiled at him ruefully, and Bucky managed to smile back.

“Now come on, we’ve got dick-pics to Photoshop.”

* * *

 

Later that week, Target Douchebag threw his binder down on his desk, only to have an avalanche of pornographic papers come spilling out. Every paper had his face badly Photoshopped onto the body of a male porn star.

 Captain America’s shield was conveniently drawn over their privates.

* * *

 

Bucky stumbled into the art room, shaking with laughter. “Steve, oh man, you’re not gonna _believe_ this.” He collapsed into his chair in a fit of giggles and Steve smiled up at him from behind his sketchbook.

“What happened?”

Bucky leaned forward, grinning like he was sharing a scandalous secret. “I passed by Mr. Coulson’s room after they found those pictures. He was having a “conference” with that douche we pranked. Jesus Christ, you shoulda seen the guy- he was so _red_.”

Steve chuckled along with him. “So the mission was a success then?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Of course it was a goddamn success! It was _my_ idea, after all.” He grinned and nudged Steve playfully.

Steve just smiled and shook his head, reaching for his sketchbook again. Bucky paused at the sight of it.

“How’s that big project going?”

“Pretty good, actually. I’m just added the finishing touches.” Steve answered distractedly, poking his tongue out between his teeth as he added a few more delicate marks to the page. “I decided to go with a different subject. I think I might actually be happy with it now.”

“That’s great, Stevie.” Bucky’s smile softened. Watching Steve work, seeing the crease in his brow when he was in deep concentration, it had started to make him feel… warmer. Bucky thought he wouldn’t mind listening to Steve talk about his art more often if it meant he could see that sharp, passionate look in Steve’s eyes.

“Would it be okay if I-”He cleared his throat before extending his hand timidly. “Could I see?”

Steve froze. A deep blush was creeping its way up his face, and Bucky had the fleeting fear that he would snap his pencil if he gripped it any tighter. He quickly pulled his hand back. “It’s okay if you don’t want to- You don’t have to show me-”

“No.” Steve answered, sounding strained. He took a shaky breath to release the tension in his shoulders. “No, It’s fine. It, uh,” He let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “It probably wouldn’t be fair if I _didn’t_ show you, considering, well, here.” He handed the sketchbook to Bucky, keeping his eyes cast downwards, the tips of his ears still red.

All of the air rushed out of his lungs the second he looked down at the drawing. The face staring up at him was _his_. Steve had captured him in the beginnings of a laugh, grin so wide that it stretched his cheeks and added crinkles around his eyes. His hair looked wild, but somehow still striking as it fell across his forehead and his eyes gleamed with mirth and mischief.

The boy in the drawing looked _happy_ \- happier than Bucky thought he could have been just a few months before.

He didn’t know what to say.

“I should have asked you if it was okay.” Steve rushed the words out quietly, still staring down at his hands. “I just work so much better from real life and you were right _there_ and I thought maybe-”

“You made me pretty.” Bucky breathed out, his voice sounding strange. Steve paused, lifting his head to stare at Bucky curiously, before breaking out in a grin.

“Well, shoot, guess I failed then.” He smirked, the humorous lilt creeping back into his voice. “I was trying to make it as accurate as possible-”

Bucky shoved him. Steve let out a bark of laughter at the outraged look on his face, and Bucky threatened to shove his head in a locker. “-one of the gym lockers too, so you’ll die of the smell!”

 Steve stuck out his tongue.

Bucky briefly wondered how it would feel against his.

“But in all seriousness,” Steve said as Bucky (carefully, reverently) handed the drawing back.  His blush was coming back, tinting his cheeks pink as he glanced up at Bucky shyly. “Do you really think it’s good?”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to the paper, lingering over the crisp lines and carefully shaded shapes.

“It’s amazing.”

What he really wanted to say was: _You’re amazing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at pepper-cola.tumblr.com , where there is a ridiculous amount of crying over superheroes.  
> I’ll be on break next week, so hopefully I’ll be back sooner. See you next time!


	4. Mission: Foul Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets into a bad fight. Bucky wants to get revenge, but Steve doesn't even want to talk about it.  
> Meanwhile, Clint becomes a single mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUuuuuhggggg. UUUUHHHHGG! Oh my god I can't believe it took me so long to finish this chapter.  
> I could give this whole apology and explanation for why this is so late, but screw it, I'll post it at the end. You've waited long enough.

Steve had been in a fight.

This wasn’t exactly anything new. Most of the school population could tell you that Steve Rogers had a big mouth. The kid would pick a fight with a guy three times his size if he had a problem with the way he treated other students. And, unsurprisingly, he lost most of these fights. So it wasn’t unusual to see Steve walking around with a black eye or split lip or bloody knuckles. But he still always held his head high.

But today Steve was curled into himself, hiding his face behind the hood of his jacket. He had a swollen lip, a scrape on his cheek and Bucky could see the purpling skin on his sides and arms when he reached for a brush on one of the high art shelves. Something about the way Steve wouldn’t look him in the eye made his stomach churn.

“You get in another fight?” Bucky asked after deciding that he couldn’t take another minute of the disconcerting silence.

Steve’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice, as if he had forgotten Bucky was there. He grimaced at the sudden movement before shrugging carefully and looking away again. “Something like that.” He muttered so quietly that Bucky almost didn’t hear him.

Bucky gave him a thin smile. “So, what kind of injustice were you fighting this time, Captain?” He hoped some humor would snap Steve out of his funk, but the smaller boy kept his eyes on his work.

“No injustice, really. Just a couple of jerks looking for a new punching bag.” He answered tightly after a moment. He sighed and brushed his bangs out of his face restlessly. “They, uh, jumped me after school yesterday.”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. Steve fighting was okay, not great but _okay_ , because he always made the decision to start it. Somebody waiting to ambush him out of the blue was different. Bucky was surprised by the shear amount of anxiety the thought caused him.

He leaned closer, frowning with concern. “Does that happen a lot?”

Steve chuckled humorlessly. “Sometimes.” He looked up at Bucky from under his lashes, a small self-conscious smile hinting at his lips. “If you hadn’t noticed Buck, I’m not exactly the most popular guy in school. It was just…a little worse this time.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, and Steve made an effort to make his shrug look less painful. “I’m fine. They caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“You gonna go to Pierce? Maybe he could do something about that.”

 Steve let out a bark of bitter laughter and leveled him with an incredulous look. “You’re kidding me, right? The _guidance counselor_?” He shook his head. “Pierce hates my guts.”

Bucky paused, confused. He didn’t understand why Steve wouldn’t trust Pierce, but he didn’t want to push the issue. A better idea dawned on him and he broke into a grin, leaning towards Steve expectantly. “Okay, so how’re we getting back at them?”

“We’re not.”

He blinked, too stunned for a moment to say anything. Steve kept working, apparently unaware of Bucky’s shock. “What do you mean we’re not-”

“ _We’re not.”_ Steve repeated, his voice firmer this time. He looked up long enough to give Bucky a warning look. “It’s not a big deal, okay? Just forget it.”

 “But they-”

He was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Steve plastered on a smile as Natasha pulled up a seat beside them. Bucky kept his mouth shut as his two friends chatted amiably. His eyes kept lingering on Steve, the way he kept shifting uncomfortable and how his smile seemed so strained.

He looked _tired_ … and small.

Bucky didn’t like it.

 “Dammit!”

Steve cursed vehemently at the table, jerking Bucky back into focus. The blond flushed and glanced up at Natasha with slight embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Things are just really calm right now, Steve. I haven’t found anyone who could be a potential target.” She explained, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. A crease formed between her eyebrows and Bucky could see the curiosity getting the better of her. “I would have thought you’d be okay with that, though.” She probed. “Isn’t the whole ‘peace and justice’ thing kind of the _point_?”

“Yeah.” Steve mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “It is, I just… whatever. You’re right.” He sighed and smiled ruefully. “It’s good.”

Bucky glanced between the two of them. Even with Natasha being gentle with him a way that they saw so rarely, Steve still looked tense. It was clear he was disappointed.

With suppressed a sigh, Bucky leaned forward.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything for us? Nothing we could use for a mission?” he pressed, because he’d known Steve Rogers long enough to know that while, _yes_ , he _did_ want people to stop being awful shitheads all the time, he was also a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

And if pulling a few pranks could cheer the kid up, then goddammit Bucky was going to find them a target.

Natasha narrowed her eyes and shook her head in answer to his question. Before she could berate him for beating a dead horse, however-

“Hey Nat! You in here?”

Everyone turned toward the voice bellowing from the doorway, and Bucky groaned when he caught sight of sandy blond hair and a mess of bandages.

“Goddammit Clint.”

“What?” Clint pouted, lifting his arms. “What’d I do?”

Bucky just dropped his head into his hands.

“I was looking for Natasha. I thought we were eating lunch together.” Clint continued, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Natasha, god bless her, took the initiative to stand and address Clint, drawing his attention away from the other two boys frozen in their seats. “You’re right, we were. I just had some business to take care of.” She told him dismissively as she took his arm and began steering him towards the door. Clint twisted out of her grasp, however, and started to walk further inside.

“What kind of business? What are you doing sitting in the dark with Barnes and…” he paused as his eyes landed on Steve.

“Um… hi…” Steve waved uncertainly.

Bucky groaned and lifted his head to gesture between them. “Steve, this is Clint. He’s Natasha’s…friend? Boyfriend? Bitch?” He shook off the confused crease between his brows. “Whatever. He’s a dumbass, just ignore him.”

“Ah, yeah.” Steve starts. “I know him.”

Clint grinned. “Oh yeah! You’re _that_ Steve!”

Bucky glanced between the two of them. “Wait, what? _How_?” Of course he knew that they went to the same school, they were bound to run into each other. Still, Steve and Clint ran in very different circles, it seemed too unlikely that they would cross paths.

“We work at the animal shelter together.” Steve explained. “He comes in almost every weekend.”

“How’s Zaxby doing by the way?” Clint piped up, grabbing a seat and making himself comfortable, despite Natasha’s efforts to get him out the door.

“Gatsby.” Steve corrected, with a sigh that suggested he’d said it more than once. “His leg should be almost healed up soon, and his foster family is coming to get him later this week.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Bucky interrupted, waving his hand to get their attention. He pointed accusingly at Clint. “You work at an animal shelter?” He shifted his focus to Steve, narrowing his eyes. “ _YOU_ work at an animal shelter? I thought you were allergic to everything under the sun.”

Steve shrugged. “My diet consists mainly of salbutamol and Benadryl. I manage.”

Bucky turned his gaze back to Clint, who grinned. “I just really love dogs, man. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s just weird that you two know each other.”  Bucky admitted after a moment. He had known Clint for years, and had been spending more and more time with Steve over the past couple of months. He didn’t understand why neither of them had mentioned the other.

"Well, could someone explain to me how _you two_ know each other? Or why you’re sitting in an abandoned room acting all mysterious and shit?” Clint leaned forward, scrutinizing them both.

 Bucky could see Steve starting to get twitchy.  Natasha had been in on their secret for a few weeks, and Steve liked her enough, but that didn’t mean he was ready to tell everyone that he was the Captain. Even though he knew Clint, it was clear that Steve was torn between being polite and not trusting Clint enough to give his identity away.

Before Bucky could come up with a lie, Natasha placed a firm hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Clint, let’s go to lunch.” She didn’t give him an opportunity to answer before she grabbed hold of his jacket and began dragging him away. Clint didn’t fight her, just walked backwards and rattled out more questions excitedly.

“Is this some sort of secret club? Can I join? Do we get codenames? I wanna be called Hawkeye.”

 “Clint. Look at me.” Natasha stopped and spun him around to face her. Her eyes were hard as she stared directly into his. Clint went silent as he watched her begin to move her hands with practiced grace. Bucky couldn’t tell what she was signing -Clint could hear him well enough with his hearing aids, so he’d never made much of an effort to learn- but whatever ever she told him caused Clint to pause.

He glanced over at where Bucky was sitting before looking back to Natasha and nodding. With a triumphant smile, the red head turned on her heal and marched out. Clint turned back to them long enough to wave. “Bye guys!” He called, and then he was following Natasha through the door.

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Sorry about that.” He muttered at the blond across from him, who merely shrugged in reply. “I have no idea what she said to him, but I’m glad it worked.” He admitted.

“Something along the lines of ‘You were never here. Don’t talk to anyone about it.’ and some threat involving ‘the milk story’.” Steve answered.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up so high, he was sure they’d start fluttering around like birds.

“I’m forty percent deaf in my left ear.” Steve told him. “You pick up a few things.”

“Oh.” _Jesus_ , this kid just kept surprising him. “That’s pretty neat, actually.”

“Sure.”

They slipped into an uncomfortable silence once again with Bucky stealing glances at Steve and Steve stealing glances at the door.

“Think he’ll actually listen to her?” Steve asked after a long moment.

“Probably not.”

* * *

 

As Bucky predicted, less than a week passed before Clint came crashing through the art room door, cursing and balancing a tray of food in one hand while the other held a box under his arm.

“William Cross is a _dick_!” He swore loudly as he dropped into the chair next to Natasha.

“I thought I told you to wait in the lunchroom.” Natasha hissed.

“Yeah well, no one in the lunch room was gonna listen to me talk about the fucking asshole, so here we are.” He muttered back, stuffing a handful of fries back into his mouth.

“What makes you think we wanna listen?” Bucky muttered under his breath, low enough that he knew Clint’s hearing aids wouldn’t pick it up. Steve cast a curious glance at him out of the corner of his eyes, but he shrugged it off. He was annoyed okay? They still hadn’t found a new mission, which meant that Steve was still walking around like a kicked puppy. All he wanted was for Clint to leave so he could focus on getting Steve to forget about his slowly healing bruises.

While Natasha began signing angrily at Clint, Steve kept staring at him disapprovingly. Bucky ignored him, trying to focus on his friends’ hands, even though he still couldn’t understand.

A bony elbow dug sharply into his ribs.

Bucky lifted his hand in the universal gesture for “ _What?”_ andSteve jerked his head in the direction of their friends, giving Bucky an expectant look. He shot the blond a glare that he hoped said “ _Fuck no, I want him to leave.”_ in reply. The blond crossed his arms, but Bucky remained resolutely silent.

After a moment, Steve rolled his eyes and turned away. Bucky thought he had won until-

“Why is William Cross a dick?” Steve spoke up, causing Natasha’s fingers to still.  Bucky slammed his head into the table. Clint blinked at him, surprised.

“I’m curious.” Steve assured him, trying for an easy smile.

Clint, regaining some of his earlier outrage, threw himself back across his seat with new vigor. “This _asshole._ Lemme tell you.” He started, venom dripping from his words.

“We were at archery practice earlier, right? And I was doing great. Because I always do great.” He smirked proudly, but his expression soon darkened as he remembered the rest of his story. “But this Cross guy keeps getting pissed off that I’m shooting circles around him. Which, I’m _sorry,_ I didn’t realize it was _my fault_ that he sucked, but I digress.” He waved his hand is dismissal. “Anyways, there’s this bird house near the archery field.”

“We have an archery field?”

“Can it, Barnes. I’m telling a story.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but let him continue.

“So. Bird house. Woodshop class made it last year, it’s nice. I checked it out a few days ago and there’s all these little birdlings.”

“Chicks.” Natasha corrected mildly.

“Whatever. Cross is pissed, bets that I couldn’t hit an actual moving target. Whatever, I just turned down my hearing aids. But then I see him watching the birdhouse. Mama bird is feeding the baby birds, and I’m thinking, ‘Aw, that’s really fucking cute, goddamn’. Suddenly _fucking William Cross_ , the bastard, looks right at me, and shoots an arrow right through Mama bird.”

“Holy shit.” Bucky said, genuinely shocked. “What an asshole.”

“I _know.”_ Clint slammed is hand down on the table emphatically, disturbing the box he had placed there. “What kind of guy shoots a poor mama bird just to prove he’s-”

“Um, Clint…” Steve interrupted softly, brow creasing in concern as he stared across the table. “I’m sorry but, is that box… chirping?”

Clint froze, his eyes wide. Slowly, he began to move the box closer to him. “Okay, this looks bad.”

Natasha leaned over, studying him critically. “What’s in the box, Clint?” She asked carefully.

Clint looked down at his hands. “Um. There might be three baby birds in this box.”

“Holy shit.”

“You can’t be serious-”

“They’re orphans!” Clint protested, clutching the box close to his chest. “They need me!

“Clint, you cannot raise a family of birds.” Natasha argued, concern and exasperation heavy in her voice.

“Yes I can! Look, I already gave them names.” Everyone groaned as he began opening the cardboard flaps. Names were never a good sign.

Clint tilted the box gently to give them a decent view of the small, chirping lumps inside. The chicks were still fairly young, and only had a thin layer of feathers covering their tiny bodies. Bucky thought they looked kind of gross, but Clint nonetheless stared down at them proudly as he pointed to each one.

“This one is Callum. And that’s Lewis. And that little one right there is Nicole. She’s the baby, but she still eats more than the other two combined.”

“You realize this isn’t going to be easy, right?” Natasha was trying to give him a disapproving stare, but her gaze kept flickering back to Callum, who was trying to hop out of the box. “It’s not like the dogs at the shelter.”

“Tell me about it.” Clint sighed wearily. “They have to eat, like, _all the time,_ and they shit everywhere, and I only got five minutes of sleep last night because they wouldn’t _shut up_. But I couldn’t just _leave_ them there.”

“You and your strays, Barton.” Bucky shook his head. He waved his finger in front of the chicks, letting them peck at it. “This is going to be worse than the raccoon incident.”

“Fuck you, Barnes.” Clint shot back. “Rocket was a goddamn _delight_.”

“You had to get a rabies shot!”

“You know what? I don’t have time for your criticism.” Clint snatched the box back into his arms. “I’m a single mother now. I have responsibilities and shit.”

Natasha sighed, apparently having given up on talking him out of it. She reached over and scratched the head of one of the chicks. “Do you have enough food for them?”

“Yeah, I should be fine.” Clint answered. “But if you figure out a way that I can ruin Cross’s life without getting kicked off the archery team, hit me up.”

“Actually, I think I _can_ help with that.”

Every person at the table turned to Steve, who had otherwise remained silent throughout the last five minutes of argumentative yelling. Steve smiled back shyly. “If you really wanna get back at him, I mean. I have a few ideas.”

Clint paused before peering down into his box. “What do you think guys?” He asked the little birds with a practiced seriousness. “Do you want to avenge your mama?”

He only received a few cheeps in reply, but it was apparently good enough for him. He grinned back up at Steve. “What’s the plan?”

* * *

 

The plan apparently involved a copious amount of birdseed, bird shit, spray paint, and a ride to that Friday’s football game- where Cross and everyone else would be too busy watching to notice the Captain’s activities in the parking lot.

Clint had been more than willing to provide the bird shit, which he had scooped into paper bags and then packed into air-tight Tupperware. He’d been a little more reluctant to give up the birdseed, but eventually let them have a bag, as long as it meant Mama Bird was avenged. Steve had come up with some spray paint from an earlier mission, so that was easy enough.

The only thing they didn’t have was a ride. The game was being held at a rival school, so it was too far to walk. Neither Bucky nor Steve knew how to drive, and neither of them owned a car. Clint would be too busy taking care of his “babies” and Natasha had elected to stay and help him that night.

Bucky couldn’t think of anyone else they could ask without tipping them off to his and Steve’s secret. After all, who in their right mind brought birdseed and spray paint to a high school football game?

“I have a friend.” Was all that Steve would tell him when Bucky brought it up. He didn’t push it. Steve had been buzzing with a new energy while they planned the prank, and Bucky hadn’t wanted to distract him from it.

Whoever Steve’s friend was, they were meeting them at the park, which thankfully wasn’t that far from Bucky’s house.

“I’m going out, Mom!” Bucky called as he passed by the living room.

“Who are you going with?” His mother asked, not looking up from the magazine she was reading as she sat on the couch.

“Rumlow and the guys.” He fibbed. “We’re gonna see the game.”  That part, at least, was _kind of_ true.

“Oh good. I like them. Brock’s father is very successful, you know.”

_I know, mom. You’ve only told me about fifty different times._

“He seems like such a nice boy.”

 _Ha! If only she knew._ Bucky thought as he shrugged on his jacket. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him. He risked a glance up and caught her peering at him critically from over her magazine, her lips pursed in a thin line.

“What?” Bucky pushed his hair out of his face self-consciously.

His mother shrugged with false casualness. “You’re not wearing t _hat_ , are you?” She asked, trying to keep her voice light, but the dissatisfaction was clear on her face. Bucky glanced down at his baseball jacket. It was a couple years old and, yeah, the blue fabric was a little faded in places, but it was warm and comfortable and Bucky’s favorite.

“What’s wrong with it?” He mumbled, tugging at the sleeves and keeping his eyes cast down.

“You look like you’re homeless, for one.” She started, pushing herself off the couch and moving closer, inspecting him closer. “You’ve had it forever, it’s getting worn out.”

“But I _like_ it-”

“I won’t have you walking around looking like _crap_ , James.” She snapped, and Bucky ducked his head, shutting his mouth immediately. “People will think that we can’t afford to buy you decent clothes. Do you want to embarrass us like that?”

Bucky shook his head.

His mother gave him a thin smile, sickeningly sweet, and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. She cupped her hand along his cheek lovingly, as if she hadn’t just been screaming at him. “Why don’t you go put on that leather jacket I bought you last Christmas? It looks nice.”

“It’s too tight.”

His mother let out a huff of exasperation. “Why didn’t you mention that when we still had the receipt?”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. “I-I didn’t want you to think… I didn’t want to complain…” His voice was too quiet. If his father had been there, he would have scolded him about it.

_“Speak up! Only pussies mumble, James.”_

But his mother only crossed her arms in annoyance. “Well, I paid an awful lot of money to buy you a good looking jacket, James, and you’d better start appreciating it.” She let out a sigh, and cradled her head in one hand. Guilt washed over Bucky. He hadn’t meant to give her a head ache.

“It can’t be _that_ tight.” She told him after a moment. “ _At least_ go try it on.”

Bucky trudged back to his room without argument, even though he knew it was just going to make him late. He stared down jacket hanging in the back of his closet for several long seconds before taking it out.

The sleeves were too short. The jacket pinched tight around his shoulders and made them ache. He had to suck in his stomach to zip it up. He supposed that it didn’t really look bad from the outside, but it was still uncomfortable unless he stood perfectly still. The black leather looked too shiny, made him feel like he was on display. He had been under the impression that leather jackets made everyone feel like a badass, but Bucky just felt a little sick. It didn’t fit him, in any way.

He wore it downstairs anyways.

His mother was waiting at the bottom of the steps, and smiled when she saw him. “See? You look so handsome in it, Jamie.”

“It’s still too tight.” He mumbled weakly, eyes glued to the floor.

“It’ll stretch out.” His mother replied distractedly as he began pushing Bucky towards the door. He opened his mouth to protest again, but she gave him a stern look. “You’ll either wear your nice jacket tonight or you’ll freeze, honey, but you _won’t_ look like trash.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked into the frigid air. His gloves were in the pockets of his old jacket, still up in his room. He didn’t go back for them. 

Steve was waiting for him when he got to the park. The kid was wearing little more than a hoodie over his threadbare clothes, and Bucky could see him shivering from two yards away. Still, Steve smiled when he caught his eye and waved him over.

“My friend should be here soon.” Steve told him as he walked up. He glanced over Bucky’s stupid shiny jacket, and Bucky could feel his ears heat up. He was overdressed. The jacket was too small and he looked stupid and he felt stupid and he hated it.

Steve didn’t mention it though, just adjusted his over loaded backpack and turned back to gaze out into the parking lot.  Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief. It came out in a puff in the cold air.

“Who’s this friend of yours anyways?” Bucky asked after a moment.

Steve glanced up and gave him a small smile. It still didn’t reach his eyes. “I told you about the girl who used to help me with Captain America stuff, right?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The one that graduated last year?”

“Yep.”

“Well?”

“Well, you’re gonna meet her.”

Before Bucky could respond, an old Volkswagen rolled into the parking lot, and Steve was dropping his backpack and bounding towards it. Bucky watched as a pretty brunette leaped out of the driver’s seat and scooped the younger boy into a hug. Steve laughed as she held him at arm’s length and beamed at him, fussed over him. Bucky felt his chest growing tight and couldn’t figure out _why._

He grabbed Steve’s bag and followed, raising his hand in greeting as he grew closer. The woman smiled at him over Steve’s head, perfectly straight teeth behind cherry red lips. Her dark hair was beautifully curled, and her clothes crisp and tasteful. Even without her high heeled boots, she still would have been a few inches taller than Steve. She was beautiful, Bucky had to admit it.

“Buck!”  Steve turned around and grinned as he gestured between them. His arm was still looped around her waist, and Bucky pretended it didn’t bother him. “This is Peggy Carter: Law student and all-around badass.” He beamed up at her, admiration clear on his face. “Peggy, this is Bucky, my new partner in crime.

Peggy stuck out her hand to shake his. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “So you’re our ride?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

She threw an arm around Steve and smirked. “I had a free night. I don’t mind helping again.” Bucky thought he could detect a faint English accent when she spoke. She looked down at Steve fondly, before ruffling his hair. “And I have to admit, I missed our games.”

They piled into the car, Steve sitting shotgun and Bucky crammed in the back with a backpack filled with spray paint and bird shit. The heating inside the car, at least, was working, and Bucky shucked his jacket as soon as he could.

“So Rogers,” Peggy spoke as she pulled onto the road. “Do you mind telling me what your whole plan is?”

Bucky could only see the back of his head, but he could tell Steve was smirking. “Nothing too big. We’re just gonna vandalize some guy’s car.” His shoulders came up in a shrug. Peggy sighed.

“One of these days you’re gonna get caught, Steve.” Her brown curls swayed as she shook her head, but her voice sounded warm.

“I’ll be alright.” Steve turned to grin at her. “I’ve got the best lawyer in the state, right Pegs?”

“I’ve got a few more years of school before I can help you out there.” She quipped.

Steve leaned back into his seat. “Nah, I bet you can take ‘em now if you wanted. You’re smarter than all of them combined.”

The adoration in his voice was so think it was practically dripping from his words. Bucky wasn’t sure if this Peggy girl was just being polite or was too blind to see that Steve was crazy about her. But with the way she kept glancing over at the boy beside her with fond eyes, Bucky thought that maybe she felt the same way about him.

Oh god, did she? Had Bucky unknowingly become the third wheel? Oh, what the fuck? What the _fuck-_

He tried to pretend that the sudden flush he was feeling was from irritation at his friend. What right did Steve have to make goo-goo eyes at some girl while Bucky was trapped in the back seat? It was so rude. It was gross and uncomfortable and _not fair and-_

And Steve was laughing at some joke Peggy had just cracked. Bucky hadn’t heard him laugh since he’d come into the art room with fresh bruises earlier that week.

 Goddamn, the kid sounded happy again.

By the time they car came to a stop, Bucky had decided that Peggy wasn’t so bad.

Peggy dropped them off a few blocks from the school, since Steve didn’t want her to have to pay parking fees. Bucky stomped out into the parking lot of the diner and pointedly looked away when Peggy pulled Steve in for a one armed hug before letting him out.

“We’ll be back in an hour.” Steve promised. “You sure you don’t wanna come with us?”

Peggy leaned back in her seat and shook her head. “Not that I’ve ever minded getting my hands dirty, but I think I’ll sit this part out. Besides,” She nodded to Bucky. “Looks like you got plenty of help now.”

Steve glanced over at Bucky and smiled, and Bucky pretended to be checking something on his phone. He felt weird eavesdropping on their conversation- like he was listening to something private.

Peggy waved them off as they walked towards the street. Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of a jacket that still didn’t fit right, and turned to Steve. The blonde’s face was still red, and he was smiling at the ground as he walked.

Bucky felt the corners of his mouth lifting, even as that horrible feeling in his gut got worse. Tying his damnedest to sound casual, he nudged Steve’s arm and spoke. “So that’s your girl, huh?”

Steve’s flush grew redder as he ducked his head. “She’s not my girl.” He muttered. “But she’s _the_ girl I was telling you about, yeah.”

A shadow passed over his face. “I don’t get to see her much anymore. She’s going to college upstate, you know? Double majoring in Law and Business.” He shrugged before kicking a pebble out of the way.

Bucky gave a low whistle. “Damn. That sounds pretty intense.”

“She makes it look easy.” A small, proud smile crept into Steve’s expression. “Smart as a whip, that girl, smarter than I could ever hope to be. She’s tough, too. Never backs down from a challenge. Never takes ‘no’ for an answer. I swear she paints her lips red with the blood of men.”

He sounded so goddamned enamored with her. Bucky found it kind of sweet. Or he would have, if he didn’t feel like his chest was imploding.

He grinned and gave Steve a friendly shove. “It sounds like someone has a crush.” He joked, even though the words tasted bitter.

“Well, I uh….”Steve’s reddened face got impossibly _darker._ He chuckled nervously and looked away from Bucky, pretending to take a sudden interest in the old, rundown shops they were passing.

Steve suddenly froze in his tracks, causing Bucky to nearly barrel over him.

“Jesus, Steve! What the hell-” He stopped, taking in Steve’s wide, anxious eyes. Eyebrows knit in confusion, Bucky followed the blonde’s gaze to one of the graffiti covered walls of the building in front of them. One of the images had caught his eye and caused his friend of go completely rigid.

“Steve?” Bucky tugged at his arm, frowning with concern, but Steve wasn’t responding. His thin hands were curling into fists. Blue eyes stayed glued to the painting in red, but Bucky couldn’t understand why. It was just a stupid drawing… some sort of octopus creature with a skull head enclosed in a circle. What could be so scary about that?

He called Steve’s name again, voice rising with worry, and it must have snapped him out of his trance. The next thing Bucky knew, a small hand was grabbing his and trying to pull him in the direction of the school.

“Steve! Wha-”Bucky stumbled as he tried to keep up with Steve, who was dragging him along at a near run, head down, eyes wide and alert.

“Walk faster.” Was all that Steve whispered in reply. Then the only sounds were the slap of their shoes on the pavement as they bolted away.

They didn’t slow down until they were nearing the school gates, and Bucky yanked his hand away, trying to catch his breath. “Any particular reason you decided to go for a fucking jog through the streets?” He snapped, the heat behind his words fueled by concern and a slight annoyance at his friend’s silence.

“Hydra.” Steve muttered darkly.

“The hell is that?”

“Nothing good.” Steve replied, before slipping into the parking lot and busying himself with looking for the car. Bucky realized that he wasn’t going to get much more of an answer and decided, once again, with some aggravation, not to push the subject.

They’d had Clint point out Cross’s car earlier in the week and had made note of the license plate numbers. Still, by the time they actually found it, the game was already in the second quarter. Steve started pulling out their supplies while Bucky leaned against the car, scanning the parking lot for any witnesses.

His eyes slid back over to Steve, who was surveying the car, tongue caught between his teeth as he tried to determine the best way to break in. No one would have seen it if they hadn’t been looking close enough, but Bucky could see that Steve’s hands were still tremoring slightly. He had a hunch it had nothing to do with the cold. Part of Bucky wanted to take Steve’s hands in his own, hold them to his chest until they stilled.

He didn’t.

After a moment, Steve nodded at the driver’s side window and Bucky reached for the heavy mallet Steve had pulled out of his bag. Trying to be as discrete as possible, Bucky hefted the mallet over his shoulder, put one hand on the door to steady himself, and brought it down on the window hard enough to shatter the glass.

Steve grinned.

They set to quick work unlocking the doors and grabbing the necessary materials. Steve began shoving bags of bird shit underneath the seats, in the glove compartment, and any other hard to find place he could think of, while Bucky flipped open his pocketknife and knelt next to the tires.

“Only slash three.” Steve told him. “Most insurance companies will cover it if you slash all four, but if it’s just the three, he’s on his own.”

Bucky nodded, though he was slightly unnerved by the fact that Steve possessed that kind of knowledge, and that he could recite it so straightforwardly.

He did as he was told, then straightened up to check around and make sure they were still alone. So far, it appeared that they were.

Steve was cursing and wincing as he struggled to shut the glove compartment he had packed full of bird shit. Bucky took another glance around the parking lot before pasting on a grin and nudging Steve with his foot.

“What?” he snapped. The glove compartment clicked as it finally squeezed close and Steve fell forward, off balance. Bucky steadied him with a hand on his chest.

“You didn’t answer my question, you know.”

Steve had started peeling open another Tupperware container and was wrinkling his nose at the smell. “About what?” He coughed out, turning his face away so he wouldn’t have to breathe in the awful odor of bird feces.

Bucky grinned wider, but there was something behind his eyes ( _some part of him that he_ hated _for being so selfish_ ) that was vulnerable. “Peggy.” Her name dropped off of his lips as he hefted the bags of birdfeed into his arms. “Do you _like_ her?”

Steve dropped the entire container into the floor and cursed. “No!” He yelped, as he dove to retrieve them. He paused, mortification still on his face. “I mean yes,” he corrected after a moment, his voice sounding less strained. “Sort of. I _used_ to.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him from where he was pouring the bird seed into the cup holders. He kept Steve pinned with a curious look until the blond finally sighed and gave in, words spilling out like water from a dam.

“Look, she’s great and beautiful and she’s never once treated me like some dumb kid, but she’s grown up now. She’s got her schoolwork and career to focus on, and I’m…” He took in his surroundings and spread out his arms, slightly incredulous.  “Well, I’m shoving bird shit into some kid’s car.”

Bucky hummed and nodded, grimacing a little at the smell.

Steve shrugged and shoved the last bag into the console, before falling into the seat beside Bucky. He leaned his head back and frowned at the ceiling. “Five years from now, she’s gonna be this bad ass lawyer lady and I’m gonna be-”

 “In jail?”  Bucky cut in with a wry smile.

“Shut up Barnes.” Steve shoved him, but he was fighting a smile.

 “Hey don’t worry,” Bucky slung an arm over his shoulder. It was a little awkward in such a small space, but he grinned easily all the same. “I’ll probably be right there with ya at this rate.”

Steve let out a bark of laughter. “I guess I _have_ corrupted you.”

They moved away from each other to continue the job, but Bucky still felt warmth on the side where Steve had been. He glanced over his shoulder at where Steve was shaking up his spray-paint.

“So… you don’t really like her that way, huh?” Bucky asked, keeping his eyes on the bird seed spilling over the seats.

He heard Steve let out an exasperated sigh from behind him. “Are ya planning to ask her out, Barnes?”

Bucky flushed and ducked his head. “No! I was just curious.”

“You’re a nosy guy, ya know that?” Steve chuckled and climbed up onto the hood of the car, pausing to pop the cap off of the spray can before he spoke again, his voice softer. “I might have been a little head over heels for her before, for a little while. But now? She’s my closest friend. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

Bucky finished and straightened up, crumpling the empty bag in his hands. Steve tossed the red spray paint away and moved on to the white.

“It was Peggy’s idea, you know. The whole Captain America thing.” He said after a moment. Bucky jerked his gaze back to Steve from where he had been looking towards the stadium. Steve didn’t look up.

“When we met, I was getting into fights every other week. I was just… angry. I’d pick a fight over every little thing.” Steve shook his head. “Peggy… she told me I was going to end up killing myself. So she came up with Captain America. Said it would help me let off some steam in a way that didn’t involve me getting my face beat in. And, well, it worked. For the most part.”

He put the finishing touches on his shield, before hopping down and standing in aside to survey their work.

Bucky frowned, running his eyes across Steve’s skinny body while he wasn’t looking. With his sleeves rolled up, Bucky could see the still healing bruises on Steve’s arms.

 “You still get into fights.” He challenged.

“What can I say?” Steve shrugged and gave him a tight smile. “I don’t like bullies.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Unless they’re pushing you around, right?” He growled out, stepping closer. “Then it’s perfectly okay.”

Steve let out a tired sigh. “Just drop it Bucky.” He made a move towards his bag, but Bucky stepped in front of him, arms crossed. Steve pushed past him roughly.

“Why won’t you just do something to get back at them?” Bucky called after him. “You’re Captain America; you can come up with something!”

Steve just slung his bag over his shoulder and marched in the other direction. “We need to go before someone sees us.”

Bucky watched him walk away, frustrated. For the past week, he had done as Steve had asked and dropped the subject, too afraid of Steve’s anger to risk pushing him too far. But he wasn’t getting anywhere like that. Steve was still hurt and still bottling things up and it _still wasn’t okay_ , and Bucky was going to fix it if was the last thing he did.

He hopped up onto the hood of the car and crossed his arms, waiting calmly. It only took a few more steps for Steve to realize that Bucky wasn’t following him, and he turned around with a scowl.

“Buck, come on. We don’t have time for this.”

Bucky stayed where he was. “Who beat you up?”

“Bucky-”

“I ain’t leaving till you tell me.” Bucky raised his chin, smirking at Steve with a challenge in his eyes.

Steve glared back at him, looking absolutely furious. He stomped back over until was inches away from Bucky. For a moment, Bucky was afraid Steve would swing at him, knock him out and try to drag him back to the car himself, but then, slowly, the anger drained out of him.

 “Wes Cofield.” He admitted, his voice sounding too small and meek. “It was him and some of his friends.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. Wes Cofield, a sophomore, had been the inspiration for one of Steve’s latest pranks. After a teacher had ridiculed Wes in front of class for a simple mistake, Steve had snuck into her class room to pour water on her keyboard. He’d almost gotten caught for his trouble, too.

Bucky jumped down from the car, reeling with anger. “What the _hell?_ You stood up for that guy, and he just-”

“It happens sometimes.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “You stick your neck out for someone, and the next day they turn on you. That’s just a part of it.”

“It shouldn’t be, man! That’s what you don’t get.” Bucky sighed. He grasped Steve’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. “If they had hurt anyone else you would have had their asses in a minute. Why won’t you fight back now?”

“Because it’s a fucking _joke_!” Steve shouted, jerking away and startling Bucky enough to make him drop his hand. All of Steve’s bottled up frustration was suddenly pouring out, and he couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with himself. He ran a hand through his bangs feverishly. “I shouldn’t _have_ to get revenge; I should be able to defend myself in the first place! But _no!_ ” A strained, humorless chuckle forced its way out of his lungs.  “Skinny little Steve Rogers is so pathetic that you can just beat the crap outta him for fun. It’s the new favorite pass time.”

With his outburst over, Steve’s energy seemed to seep out of him. His shoulders dropped and he turned his face down, never bringing his eyes up to meet Bucky’s.

“I _did_ fight back.” He confessed quietly. The parking lot lights overhead made the shadows in his face look darker. “They still ran off laughing like I was some sort of game to them.”

This time, when Steve started walking away, Bucky followed him in stunned silence. Steve looked so tired, and yet so much of his anger was just boiling underneath. Bucky had never seen him act so vulnerable before. He walked beside him in silence, glancing down with worry while Steve kept his eyes on the pavement beneath their feet.

The sun had long since gone down, and it was colder outside than it had been when they had arrived. By the time they were out of the parking lot, Bucky could see that Steve was shivering not only from the adrenalin still coursing through him, but from the freezing air as well.

In one swift movement, he slid off his jacket and draped it over the smaller boy’s frame. Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Bucky threw an arm over his shoulders, preventing him from shrugging it off.

“People suck, Steve.” Bucky announced, frowning as he tugged Steve along under his arm awkwardly.

He heard a scoff from somewhere below him. “I noticed.” Steve replied, wry humor creeping back into his voice.

Bucky paused, before sighing. “That doesn’t mean you have to deal with sucky people alone.” He drew back, just far enough to look Steve in the eye. “You said it yourself, I’m your partner. I’m gonna look out for you.”

Steve started to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “If you don’t wanna get back at them, fine, but I’m Captain America, too. And I’ll be damned if I let them get away with that shit.” He palmed Steve’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you can’t do it yourself.”

Steve stared up at him, looking like he was about to argue, but something in his expression softened. Under Bucky’s hands, the tension melted out of his body. He smiled at Bucky, small and sweet.

“Thank you Buck.”

Bucky chuckled nervously, the warmth in Steve’s gaze suddenly making him uncomfortable. “It’s what friends are for, right?” He shrugged and pulled Steve along.

Peggy’s car was in sight when Steve started tugging Bucky’s jacket off of his shoulders.

“Keep it.”

Steve blinked at him before narrowing his eyes indignantly. “I ain’t your charity case, Barnes.”

“Course not.” Bucky just pushed it back onto his shoulders. “But seriously, keep it. Doesn’t even fit me anyways, and my folks won’t let me get rid of it. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Steve pursed his lips, but pushed his arms through the sleeves all the same.

 Of course he wanted Steve to be warm, but in all honesty, Bucky was giving him the jacket for purely selfish reasons. And it had less to do with getting rid of the jacket and more to do with the heat that pooled in his stomach when he saw Steve wearing it.

Because it looked like it was made for the tiny blond punk. It was a little big, but still seemed to accent the angles of his body perfectly. The contrast of the black leather against Steve’s pale skin was striking. Bucky was sure it had to count as a danger to society.

“What’re ya staring at?” Steve mumbled, brushing his hair out of his face self-consciously.

Bucky blushed. _Maybe this was a bad idea._ He thought.

“Nothing. Just- it fits you.” He smirked. “You look like even _more_ of a punk now.”

Steve shoved him and rolled his eyes, but he was hiding a smile. “Asshole.”

“I’m serious!” Bucky laughed. “You just need a few patches, some safety pins- oh, those little round button things!”

Steve shook his head. “It’s your gift. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Bucky pushed back his shoulders in an exaggeratedly authoritative look and regarded the blond seriously. “Steve, as your friend, I am telling you that it is your duty as an American to fuck up this jacket as much as possible.”

Steve gave Bucky a worried look, before snorting and dissolving into fits of laughter. Bucky couldn’t keep from cracking up as well, and soon they were both cackling and clutching their sides.

 “Alright.” Steve gasped out. “Alright. I’ll do it. For you.” He straightened up, still giggling intermittently. He ran a hand over the leather thoughtfully. “It would look nice with some of my pride buttons. And those patches I got at that 60’s tribute concert last summer.”

Bucky grinned and slung an arm around his skinny shoulders.

“You really _are_ a punk.”

“Jerk.”

* * *

 

They stopped for milkshakes on the way home.

Peggy had pulled out some of her notebooks to study while she was waiting and spread them out on the passenger’s seat. She’d offered to move them when Steve reached the car, but he’d told her not to worry and climbed into the back beside Bucky.

Bucky thought he saw Peggy wink at him in the mirror as Steve settled next to him, but he could have imagined it.

So that was how, in the middle of explaining his “How to Get Away with Murder” theories with Peggy, Bucky ended up with 95 pounds blond punk passed out on his shoulder.

 Trying to move as little as possible, Bucky slowly sat down his cup and moved his hand up to tap Steve on the shoulder. Steve shifted and pressed his face into Bucky’s shirt, but didn’t wake.

"Is he asleep?” Peggy called back softly.

“Yeah.” Bucky whispered back.

Peggy glanced back and shook her head, her eyes flooding with warmth. “He must have tired himself out- doing whatever heinous things you did to that poor boy’s car.”

Bucky hummed in agreement.

“I would have hid the bird feces in the hubcaps too, but that’s just me.” Peggy muttered off handedly.

 Bucky studied her. “Do you ever miss it?” He asked. “The pranks? Captain America?”

Her eyes met his in the rearview mirror before drifting down to rest on the sleeping boy beside him. “Yes.” She whispered after a minute. “I do. But that’s not really _me_ anymore.”

For a while, the only sound was the quiet music coming from the radio. Bucky considered drinking more of his shake so he wouldn’t blurt out anything stupid, but he didn’t want to move and disturb Steve.

It had been a rough week for the kid; it was about time he got some rest.

 “I worry about him, you know.” Peggy admitted. She was biting her ruby lips, eyes fixed on the healing scrapes on Steve’s hands.

“Yeah, so do I.” Without thinking, Bucky moved his hand to brush Steve’s hair out of his face. “He works himself too hard.”

“He’s sweet.” Peggy murmured.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid.” Bucky kept playing with Steve’s hair absentmindedly, watching the way the passing city lights danced across his face. The shadows made his dark eyelashes look impossibly longer. When he was sleeping, Steve’s face seemed softer, more innocent. Bucky smiled, warmth flooding through him at the sight.

 He caught Peggy’s eye in the mirror and blushed, guiltily withdrawing his hand. Peggy just gave him a knowing smile and turned back to the road.

“Barnes?”

“Yes?”

“If you hurt him, I will personally confiscate your balls.”

“Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the week after I finished the last chapter, I started Co-directing our school play with my beta, which meant that we had maybe two hours of free time everyday until near the end of November. Then there was college stuff, and school stuff, and I made some bad choices and failed a few Pre-cal tests, AND THEN WE HAD FINALS and this is a stupid excuse but just so you know where I'm coming from here. Point is, I'M SORRY!
> 
> This chapter gave me a lot of trouble on its own, too. The next chapter is a really big turning point in Bucky and Steve's relationship, so I got here and realized "Oh crap, there are a LOT of things that need to happen before THE THING happens." And then this chapter ended up with WAY more angst than I'd anticipated, so I'm sorry for that too. (Because the next two chapters also have a lot of angst. And then there's a cute little holiday chapter and then the next chapter is like having a truck of angst hit you head on.)  
> Luckily for you guys, these next few chapters also happen to be my favorite, so they'll hopefully get written pretty quick.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading and sticking with me. I get the dumbest grin on my face every time I get a new comment or bookmark. You guys really make my day!  
> I'd also like to thank my beta, Tony, for pointing out that hubcaps are not called "tired irons" and that "you can't stash bird shit in a tire iron, anyways, Pep. It's a wrench, it's kind of impossible."


	5. Mission: Banned Book Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve finally figure out what to do with all of the 'rescued' library books. But just as their relationship is beginning to grow stronger, Bucky is put into a situation where he is forced to choose between his friendship with Steve and his security within Rumlow's group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho-ly shit that was a long hiatus. Sorry guys! I know every AN is just me apologizing for the chapters beings so late. Life got in the way and senior year kicked. my. ass. But I'm graduated, I got a scholarship, and I finally have time to work on this! So it's all good!
> 
> So before we get started I feel like I should draw your attention to this beautiful piece of Fanart that limeys did for this fic AGES ago and I asked them if I could link it and they said yes and then I never did it. So here it is!  
> http://limeys.tumblr.com/post/97985217674/stucky-au-fanart-yehhhh-i-went-there-anyway  
> It's BEAUTIFUL and you should all go look at it and tell them how beautiful it is!
> 
> Ahem, warnings for this chapter include: some Homophobic slurs (mostly by Rumlow, a couple times by Bucky) and one ableist slur. 
> 
> This is not a very happy chapter.

Winter didn’t so much creep in as it swept in like some huge hockey player and knocked everyone else into the freezing cold. By mid-December, most people had abandoned their light sweaters in favor of warm, heavy coats. A light dusting of snow already covered the entire town and the gray sky above only promised more.

The frost on the grass beneath Bucky’s feet crunched as he shifted restlessly. Students filed past him on their way home, paying him no mind as he scanned the crowd for a glimpse of messy blond hair. They had agreed to walk together to Steve’s house after school so Bucky could help Steve with the French work he had missed. Bucky had been waiting for Steve to meet him for almost five minutes, and he was freezing.

It was completely reasonable to meet each other by the baseball field instead of just leaving their French class together. There _was_ a good reason, even if Bucky couldn’t think of it at that moment, and it wasn’t because he was ashamed of being seen with Steve. He wasn’t _ashamed_ ; he just thought it’d be better if they left separately, without speaking or looking at each other. There was nothing wrong with that. 

He caught sight of Steve exiting the school doors, one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other clutching his backpack. Bucky didn’t notice the group of boys behind his friend until one of them shoved Steve, sending him stumbling forward. Bucky stiffened, but didn’t make an attempt to move forward. He watched as Steve slowly straightened up, cast a dirty look at the laughing boys behind him, and calmly walked away. _Steve can take care of himself_ Bucky reassured himself.

Bucky didn’t miss it when one of them loudly yelled out “QUEER!” at his friend’s retreating form. His breath caught in his throat. Steve just kept walking.

_He can take care of himself._

* * *

 

“Okay. ‘Je suis la plus belle pomme de royaume!’ How was that?”

“No, no, no.” Bucky said between giggles. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what the queen said.”

Steve sighed and tried to peer at the paper in Bucky’s hands. “What did _I_ say?”

Bucky stifled another bout of laughter. “Um, it roughly translated to ‘I am the most beautiful apple in the kingdom.’ You were close though.” 

Steve groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed. His tiny chest heaved as he succumbed to his own laughter. “I’m never gonna get this right.”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Bucky solaced him, rolling over beside him so he could look Steve in the eye. “At least you’ve still got your looks, you beautiful apple.” He couldn’t even get the words out without dissolving into giggles again, and they only grew louder when Steve shoved him good-naturedly. 

“Okay, okay, snack break.” Bucky relented, pushing himself up. “Where do you keep the chips?” He called as he made his way to Steve’s kitchen.

“In the cabinet closest to the stove.” His reply came. “But don’t touch the barbeque ones. Those are Mom’s.” Bucky waltzed back into the room moments later with his arms full of chips and soda. He tossed one can to Steve and slumped down into the desk chair, propping his feet on the bed just for the annoyed look it got him.

“Where are your parents anyways?” Bucky asked as he popped open his can. “I feel like I’m over here all the time now but I’ve never met them.” Steve had never met Bucky’s parents either, or been over to his house, which Bucky was okay with; his parents weren’t always the most understanding. But he still wanted to find out what kind of person could raise a kid like Steve.

Steve swallowed around a mouthful of chips. “Well, good luck trying to meet my father.” He muttered, giving a small huff of laughter and causing Bucky to raise an eyebrow. He set aside his food and sat up, but wouldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“Dad left for Iraq when I was four. Came back a few months later in a box.”

“ _Shit_ , Stevie…” 

“It’s not a big deal, really.” Steve gave him a small, sad shrug. “I mean, I barely knew him. Mom doesn’t really like to talk about it, though.”

They both took sips of their sodas in silence for a long moment, until Bucky worked up the courage to ask “What about your mom?”

“Oh, she’s still at the hospital.”

Bucky nearly spit his soda all over the bed, but Steve just laughed. 

“Relax.” He said, moving up to thump Bucky hard on the back. “She’s a nurse- it’s her job to be there. She just works weird hours.” He sat back, smiling ruefully. “See? My life isn’t a _complete_ tragedy.”

Bucky forced out a laugh, just to get rid of some of the tension. He soon went silent again, sipping his soda and watching his hands as Steve continued eating.

Steve reclined back on his bed and picked up his French assignment, attempting to read over it once more. He winced and rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly, causing Bucky to think back to the end of the school day.

“I saw those guys pushing you around.” He said quietly. 

Steve glanced up from his papers distractedly. “Who, them?” He shrugged and took another sip of his soda. “They’re just a bunch of assholes, don’t worry.”

“I thought you were gonna go off on them.”

Another shrug. “They weren’t worth my time.”

Bucky paused, confusion causing him to furrow his brow. “They called you a queer.” He said carefully. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

Steve sighed and put down his papers. There was a long moment where he frowned up at the ceiling, before he shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Well,” He said, smiling sheepishly at Bucky. “they’re not exactly _wrong_.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Wait, I thought you had a thing for Peggy?”

“I _did_ , Buck.” Steve answered nonchalantly. “I’m bisexual.”

“Oh.” Bucky said dumbly, his head overloading with this new information and the possibilities it provided. 

Steve turned his head and leveled Bucky with a challenging stare. “It _is_ possible to like both, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah of course!” Bucky agreed quickly. “I just… I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Steve frowned. “Is it going to be a problem?” He asked. He set his jaw determinedly, but Bucky could see the nervousness in his eyes. Silently, Bucky moved over to the bed and put an arm around his friend. 

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” Bucky squeezed his shoulder, but Steve kept his eyes forward. “You being bi doesn’t change that, Stevie.” 

Steve sighed, and Bucky felt the tension drain out of the body under his arm.  

He sat back, and after a moment Steve went back to studying his papers. Bucky moved so he could lean against the wall and watched his friend carefully, chewing his lips. His fingers tapped against his leg anxiously. There was another question he was choking on, and he wasn’t going to be able to will it away.

Bucky cleared his throat, his face reddening. “So is it like, fifty-fifty?”

 “Pretty much.” Steve answered, barely looking up. “I mean, it’s not _everybody_. I have my preferences.”

“Yeah?”

“Apparently I have a thing for brunets and girls who look like they could kill me.” Steve shot him a lopsided smile and shrugged. “S’ kind of a problem, actually. But yeah, other than that it’s a pretty even split.”

Bucky edged closer, still biting his lip. “But what if it’s not like, even?” He asked quietly. He felt Steve’s eyes on him, but kept his own eyes down, focused on where his hands were fidgeting with the blankets. “What if, hypothetically, you thought you liked one gender alright, but then you started noticing the other gender and was a lot more interested, even though you only had experience with the first? And you- you felt like you should know but you didn’t know?” 

Steve pushed himself up, and Bucky risked glancing over at him. The blonde was studying him seriously, and suddenly Bucky’s thick sweater felt hot and uncomfortable.

He was about to bolt when Steve’s gaze softened. “That’s okay.” Steve told him gently. “Not knowing- that’s perfectly fine.” 

“Hypothetically.” Bucky said quickly. His hands were shaking, and he tucked them under his arms.

Steve nodded and gave Bucky a tightlipped smile. “Of course.” 

“I mean, cause you know, I’m not-” 

“Buck.” Steve put a steady hand on his shoulder. “ _Okay_.” His eyes looked so warm, and for a second, Bucky believed him. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Okay.” Bucky repeated slowly. His face felt warm, and he didn’t want to look at Steve anymore. He glanced around the room, trying to find something that could help him change the subject. His eyes landed on a pile of familiar books in the corner.

“Are those the library books we stole?” Bucky asked, nodding toward them.

“Rescued.” Steve corrected. “And yeah. I haven’t figured out what to do with them yet, so they’ve just been sitting there.” He slid off of the bed and knelt beside the pile. Bucky watched him inspect one of the books and found himself thinking back to their first mission. It had only been a couple of months, but it felt like years. 

When Steve had first barreled into Bucky behind the bleachers, they had barely known each other. But now, Bucky couldn’t imagine his life without Steve in it. They ate lunch together, spent the afternoons together, and when Bucky couldn’t come over, they texted each other non-stop. More than once Bucky had gotten in trouble for cracking up at the dinner table when Steve sent him a photo of his dumb little doodles. Somehow, in the span of two months, Steve had become one of the most important people in Bucky’s life.

Steve glanced over his shoulder and raised one of the books. “You know, the whole point of taking them was so other people could read them.” He murmured. “They aren’t doin much good here.”

Bucky pushed himself up and studied the pile. “What if we started a secret library?” He suggested offhandedly. It sounded like an even dumber idea once he said it out loud, but instead of laughing at him, Steve began to nod thoughtfully.

“Yeah.” He said after a moment, an excited grin spreading across his features as he studied the pile of books. “That’s actually a pretty good plan, Buck. We should do that.”

Bucky straightened up, feeling warmth spread through his chest at the praise. “Really?”

Steve nodded distractedly. Bucky could see him mapping out the whole thing in his head. Watching Steve come up with a plan was almost as exciting as watching him create a work of art. “We have enough books to, at least.” He mumbled mostly to himself. “We’d need a place to keep them, and a system so we know who’s checking them out.”

“We gotta be careful about who we lend them to.” Bucky added, climbing down to sit beside his partner in crime. “I mean, I know we want to lend them to as many people possible, but we need to make sure it doesn’t come back on us if they realize it’s stolen.”

Steve smirked. “We should probably scribble out the ‘Property of Brooklyn High School Library’ stamp then, huh?” Bucky chucked and shoved him, and Steve pulled a face, making him laugh harder.

“Hand me my notebook, will ya? We’d better write this down.”

* * *

 

Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pocket during second block. He jerked it out as soon as the teacher turned his back, anticipating a text from Steve, who had been texting him ideas about their library periodically since he’d left his house the day before. His heart thudded down to his stomach when he saw Rumlow’s name at the top instead.

**hey why the fuck don't you eat lunch with us anymore**

Bucky shoved his phone back in his pocket, intending to ignore it, but it continued to buzz for the next several minutes, making it impossible to focus. After another buzz made him scrape a long dark line across his paper, he reluctantly pulled out his phone to read the new messages.

**            barnes??? **

**youve got a new girlfriend right**

**ur getting some nice piece of ass behind the bleachers while we eat shitty** **lukewarm fries aren’t you**

**fuck you barnes answer me you dipshit**

Bucky blushed and quickly typed out his response.

_yeah. you got me._ _I’ve got a new girl, sorry_

**well ditch her. we’re going out for lunch today and your coming with us.**

Bucky didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t want to get lunch with Rumlow, and he especially didn’t want to miss making plans with Steve again. But the text had sounded like an order, rather than an offer. His phone buzzed again after a few minutes of his uneasy silence, the next messages seeming more aggressive.

**whats the matter? are you too good for us now or something?**

**get your head out of your ass. we’re the best thing to ever happen to you**

Guilt and shame washed over him, even as he felt his skin flush with indignation. He didn’t mean to make them think he was blowing them off (even though he kind of was), and in a way, he knew Rumlow was right. Without them, Bucky would have been a much easier target for bullying during his freshman year. 

He wanted to bang his head on his desk. He hated himself- he _hated_ himself, but he already knew what he had to reply.

_Sorry.  yeah I’ll be there._

* * *

 

That afternoon he found himself walking away from the art room and towards the parking lot.

A bony shoulder nudged against his. “Hey Buck.” Steve said beside him. “You get lost?”

“Uh, no I just left something in my locker.” Bucky lied. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching them before turning back to Steve. “I’ll meet you in the art room later okay?”

“Nah, I’ll walk with you.” Steve said, falling into step beside him. “I wanted to talk to you anyways. I think I found a way to keep the library from being traced back to-”

The panic that was beginning to course through Bucky was drowning out Steve’s words. None of the other kids in the hallway were paying attention, but if they _saw_ - 

“Hey Steve,” He stopped abruptly, surprising Steve and nearly causing him to lose his balance. “Can’t we talk about that later? In the _art room_?” He jerked his head in its direction, pleading with his eyes for Steve to just _walk away_.

Steve stood in front of him and blinked dumbly. “Well, _yeah_ , but you’re here and I thought-”

“Hey Barnes!” A voice called, silencing them both. Bucky froze, looking over Steve’s head to the group of boys standing down the hall. Rumlow stood at the front with his arms crossed. Something in the way he was looking at Bucky made him feel like a dog who had misbehaved.

Rumlow narrowed his eyes. “You coming to lunch or what?” He barked, and Bucky nodded deftly.

Steve’s wide eyes flicked between Bucky and the other boys and he frowned, disappointed. “But Bucky, we’re-”

“Later, okay?” Bucky hissed, cutting him off. “I can’t be seen talking with you right now.” Steve opened his mouth to object, but Bucky pushed passed him roughly. He didn’t look back; he didn’t want to see the hurt on Steve’s face that he had glimpsed as he’d started walking.

“What the hell was that about?” Rumlow demanded as Bucky approached them. “Why were you talking to Rogers?”

Bucky shrugged and forced his face to look open and confused. “I don’t know.” He told them, shaking his head in innocent bewilderment. “He just came up to me and started talking. He’s a fucking weirdo.”

Rumlow scoffed.  “No kidding.” He muttered, his cold eyes following Steve as the smaller boy walked by, head down and determinedly not looking in Bucky’s direction. Bucky’s eyes widened when Rumlow stuck out a hand to stop him in his tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going, faggot?” Rumlow pushed himself into Steve’s space, forcing him to take a step back.  “What’s the deal with bothering our friend here? You trying to flirt with him or something?” 

Steve blinked in surprise, and his eyes slid over to Bucky, who stayed rooted to the spot. “Why would I flirt with his ugly mug?” He shot back, throwing on an easy-going smirk, even though there was something darker behind his eyes. Bucky forced his expression to remain neutral. He knew that Steve was just joking- just trying to cover for them _both_ \- but his words still stung.

Rumlow didn’t seem nearly as amused. Steve kept staring up at him with an annoyingly innocent smile. “Quit smiling at me, you freak!” He snapped. He pushed Steve back, his face growing red. “Are coming on to _me_ now?”

Steve just shrugged, keeping his smile intact. “Sorry pal, dumb and awful isn’t really my type.” 

Rumlow had him shoved against the lockers in a flash, his hands fisted in the boy’s jacket. Bucky jumped at the harsh sound of Steve’s back hitting metal. The blond sucked in a sharp breath and winced, but made no other move.

“You’re real smug with yourself, aren’t you Rogers?” Rumlow growled, fisting his hands in Steve’s shirt and dragging him up until his feet were dangling in the air. Bucky started to move forward, not sure if he should stop him. Hodge gave him a withering look, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Come on, guys.” Bucky weakly tried to coax Rumlow back. “He’s not worth our time. He’s just some dumb queer.” Steve stopped kicking. He stared at Bucky like he’d just slapped him, and Bucky winced. He’d been hoping that it would make the guys stop,but it just made them egg Rumlow on more.

Rumlow took the opportunity to knock Steve’s books out of his hands. The smaller boy let out a noise of protest and tried to dive after the scattered papers, but Rumlow shoved him back- harder. Steve’s head banged against the lockers and he crumpled against them, throwing his hands out to steady himself. Rumlow caught his shoulder and drove his fist into Steve’s stomach, causing him to fall against the lockers again.

Steve’s eyes widened and found Bucky’s again. Rumlow was spitting slurs at him now, shoving him back against the lockers every time he managed to straighten up.

_Stay down_. Bucky wanted to say. _Stay down and it’ll be over sooner._ But Steve kept stumbling back up, kept looking at Bucky expectantly.

There was a small crowd forming around them. A lot of kids were cheering Rumlow on, others just watched interestedly, while a few scurried away quickly, glancing back with looks that said “better him than me.” No one was stepping forward to stop it.

Bucky could. He could push Rumlow away and help his friend but- 

but then they’d turn on him too. Rumlow had introduced him to nearly all of his friends, if he went against him, it meant going against half of his class. They already called Steve queer, what would they call _him?_ _What would they do to him if they found out it might be true?_

Steve stared up at him pleadingly as Rumlow smacked him again. Bucky took a step back. 

He watched as baby blue eyes went from confusion to panic to cold understanding in an instant. Rumlow shoved Steve again. The boys around them jeered. Steve just stared at Bucky, gaze hardened and jaw clenched tight. Bucky had to look away.

“Hey, hey! Break it up!” A voice rumbled down the hall. Bucky glanced back up in time to see Coach Phillips stomping over to the crowd, a young man that Bucky recognized from the track team following close behind. Most of the students scattered. Rumlow stepped back but otherwise remained calm as Phillips clomped a meaty hand down on his shoulder.

“If you’re gonna fight,” Phillips growled “at least do it somewhere where you aren’t clogging up the hallway.” Rumlow just shrugged. Phillips sighed, disinterested, and turned to the student who had followed him. “Sam, take Rogers here to the nurse.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Steve protested, wiping at his face as he stumbled back up. His lip was split, and blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Phillips rolled his eyes. “What ever you say, kid.” He shooed Rumlow, who walked back to his friends unfazed, smirk curling his mouth.

“Enjoy the show?” He asked Bucky, shoving him lightly before leading the way to the cafeteria, his gang of friends cheering around him. Bucky followed, but didn’t reply, glancing back one more time to see the track team kid helping Steve pick up his things.

The guilt settling in his stomach twisted like a knife.

* * *

 

“Bucky? Earth to Bucky.” Rumlow waved a few french fries in front of his face, and Bucky jerked back, startled out of his daze. The bits of straw wrapper that he’d been absentmindedly tearing apart scattered and fluttered to the floor.

“What?” He snapped, pushing his arm away. Rumlow leaned back, looking him over with narrowed eyes. Bucky tried not to squirm uncomfortably at the attention, eyes flitting around to the gaudy signs hung around in the restaurant. 

“You’re acting weird today.” Rumlow observed. Bucky just shrugged. Rumlow rolled his eyes and shoved him. “Lighten up, will you? Jesus."

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled. “I’m feeling kinda sick, I guess.” 

The other guys had already started standing up, throwing a few dollars on the table to cover the bill. Rumlow stayed seated, watching them leave lazily. When Bucky stood to follow them, Rumlow wrapped his ankles around his chair and pulled it forward, knocking Bucky back into it. He yelled at Hodge to wait for them in the car, while Bucky sat ram-rod straight in his seat, waiting for whatever was next.

Was Rumlow on to him? Did he know about Steve, about Captain America? 

Rumlow leaned forward, casting his eyes around the restaurant wearily. “Listen, I didn’t want to say this in front of the guys, okay? I don’t want them to get jealous or anything. And they _should_ be jealous, because this is a special fucking offer.”

Bucky blinked in confusion, feeling nervous for an entirely different reason now. This was not what he had been expecting at all.

“There’s this party tomorrow night. It’s invite only and I’m supposed to bring a guest. Are you in?”

“A party?”

Rumlow waved his hand casually. “Yeah. I know this guy, Schmitt, college student. He throws the best goddamn parties in the state, but they’re usually kept secret. You have to know the right signal to get in.”

His words still weren’t exactly registering to Bucky. “So you… you want me to go? Why?”

“Because you’re not a goddamn idiot.” Rumlow huffs. “I mean, you have your moments sometimes, but at least you’re not as bad as those other retards.” He glanced out the window at where Hodge and another boy were squabbling over the radio. He shook his head and turn back to Bucky. “Truth is, I think we’re a lot alike, don’t you?” 

Bucky felt bile rise up in his throat. _I’m nothing like you._ He wanted to shout. _You’re a bully. I would have never hurt Steve like you did._

But he had stood by and watched it, hadn’t he? What did that make him? Bucky just shrugged and muttered “Sure.”

Rumlow grinned, and it was a little terrifying. “Great! So I’ll see you there tomorrow, yeah?”

Bucky’s answer was interrupted by a waitress asking if he needed a to-go box, nodding at his half-finished plate. Bucky mutely shook his head while Rumlow pulled a marker from his pocket.

As she was leaving, Rumlow grabbed his arm and started drawing something in red. “Don’t wash this off, okay? It’s your ticket inside. Show it to the guy at the door and tell him I invited you, and you’ll be in.” He capped the marker, satisfied with his work, and put it away as he stood to go. “I can text you the address later. You’d better be there.”

Bucky looked down at his arm. Drawn in red sharpie was an odd skull-creature with tentacles, surrounded by a circle.

* * *

 

Steve was already in his seat when Bucky got to French, his head down as he scribbled something in his notebook. Bucky wordlessly slunk down into the seat beside him and tried to focus on Ms. Hill’s lesson about conjugation. 

There was a bruise blooming under Steve’s eye. Seeing it made Bucky feel sick.

They stayed silent through the entire class, and Steve rushed out as soon as the bell rang. Bucky sighed and followed him slowly until they had passed the baseball field, the other students far behind them. Only then did he catch up to Steve, grabbing his arm to stop him.

Steve jerked away, but turned to face him, arms crossed. Bucky drew back and cleared his throat. “Listen…” He began, feeling his face heat up with shame. “About before- I’m sorry. I didn’t think things would get that bad.”

Steve cast his eyes down and tried to shrug nonchalantly, but ended up wincing. “It’s not a big deal, Buck.” He said softly.

“I don’t know why I didn’t say anything,” Bucky babbled, still feeling guilty. “I just froze up. You understand, right?”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, but he just pursed his lips and mumbled “Yeah. I think I understand.”

“It’s just that I-”

“It’s _fine_ , Bucky. Really.” Steve assured him, giving him a tight smile. Bucky took his cue and shut his mouth.

“Right.” he said, nodding. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “So um, I’m still coming over to your house today, right? So we can workout where we’re putting the library…”

“Actually I already figured that out.” Steve told him, readjusting his backpack as he started walking again. “Sam has an extra locker beside his and said that we could use it to store the books.”

“Oh.” Bucky blinked, then ran to catch up with Steve. “Wait, who’s Sam?”

“Sam Wilson. He’s in my history class. He’s a nice guy.”

“So you- you told him about the Cap?” Bucky asked, feeling his heart speed up.

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, he thought it was pretty cool.”

“But-” Bucky stuttered, panic rising. “I thought we weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”

Steve whipped around to face him, eyes narrowing. “We told Clint and Natasha, didn’t we?”

“Well, yes, but they’re my friends. I don’t _know_ this guy!” Bucky cried.

“Well _I_ do, and I trust him.” Steve snapped. “We needed help, so I asked him to help. Is that _okay_ with you?” He took a step forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Bucky took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I-yeah sure. I just wished you had asked me before you brought him in.” 

“Well I would have, but you never came to lunch.” Steve told him curtly, before turning around. Bucky grimaced and kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk.

“You know what, Buck?” Steve called over his shoulder. “I’m feeling kinda tired. I don’t think you should come over today.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighed, listening as his steps faded away.

He turned and walked home, stomach turning and mind buzzing with doubts.

He could fix this, he told himself. As soon as they were done with the library, they could start working on their plan to get back at Rumlow and his friends. Bucky couldn’t stand up to Rumlow by himself, but he could still make things up to Steve. He just needed to do it throughCaptain America.

As Captain America, at least, Bucky could still be brave.

———-

Even though Steve was trying to pretend that everything was fine, things were still tense between the two boys that Friday. They ate lunch in silence, and while they were working together in French Steve would snap and mumble under his breath whenever he translated something wrong, instead of laughing it off like they normally did.

If he was being honest, Bucky was getting kind of annoyed with him. He had apologized and Steve had said that he understood, yet Steve was still obviously angry. Bucky felt a little betrayed. Steve was normally very upfront about how he felt, but now he was acting so passive aggressive. Bucky understood why he was mad of course, but he had to know that the fight the day before hadn’t been his fault, and even still, he was trying his best to make up for it.

Meanwhile, Rumlow had been texting him all day to remind him about the party that night. Bucky was actually starting to get excited about it; the way Rumlow was raving about it made it sound like the party of the century. All day, Bucky had been subconsciously rubbing at his arm, where the drawing was hidden under his sleeve. 

Steve would scowl every time Bucky pulled out his phone to look at his texts from Rumlow, but would continue his translation work without a word to Bucky. Just as the bell rang, Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm and moved closer to him. “I told Sam we’d meet him in the art room after school. Is that good with you?” He whispered, his voice nearly drowned out by the noise of other students stuffing their supplies into backpacks.

Bucky blinked at him, feeling a little indignant for being placed on the spot. He still had to go home and get ready for the party. “I guess.” He replied. But when he turned away he muttered. “Could you have told me a little earlier?”

“Sorry. Forgot. Kinda had a lot on my mind.” Steve said curtly, not even looking back as he followed the stream of students out of the classroom. Bucky felt heat rush to his cheeks. He hadn’t realized that Steve had heard him.

He waited until the halls had cleared before making his way to the art room. Steve was already there, talking to another boy whose back was to Bucky. He was laughing at something Steve had said when he must have heard the click of the door behind him, and he turned to face Bucky. His smile dropped immediately, and Bucky felt his stomach sinking. It was the track team kid from the day before- the one who had stood up for Steve when Bucky hadn’t.

Steve stood, moving towards them, “Sam, this is Bucky-”

“Isn’t he one of the guys that was pushing you around yesterday?” Sam asked, steel in his voice as he stepped between them. It took a second for Bucky to realize that Sam was trying to protect Steve from _him._

_“_ I wasn’t pushing him around.” Bucky told him.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “But you wereletting your buddies do it.” He said, and Bucky felt heat rush to his face.

“They aren’t my ‘buddies’!”

“Guys, guys, calm down!” Steve shouted, coming forward to place a placating hand on both of their chests. “It’s fine Sam. Bucky’s a good guy, really. He’s just-” Steve faltered. “He just didn’t want to blow his cover, that’s all.”

Sam was still looking at Bucky a little distrustfully, but he relented and held out a hand for Bucky to shake. Bucky took it, still feeling flushed to the tip of his ears.

They sat down to go over the plans for the library. Steve and Sam had apparently made a lot of progress the day before without Bucky, and though they tried to catch him up, he found that he was having trouble focussing. The other two boys either didn’t notice or pretended not to as they continued to iron out the details of the mission. Bucky stayed silent, but his mind was racing a mile a minute as he watched Steve laughing with Sam.

Jealousy gnawed at his stomach. _Bucky_ was the one who made Steve laugh during their planning sessions. He and Steve had spent months together- they were the best at bouncing ideas off of each other. Sam had only found out about Captain America less than 24 hours ago. And yet Steve was giving _Sam_ his beautiful sunshine smile, while Bucky hadn’t been able to hold a whole conversation with his best friend all day.

He sank further into his seat as the other two boys schemed excitedly. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed it when they started standing up to leave.

“So I’ll meet you guys at Steve’s house at eight, right?” he caught Sam saying.

Steve nodded in affirmation and smiled as Sam waved goodbye. Bucky came up behind him, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Why are we meeting at your place?” Bucky asked sheepishly.

Steve huffed and crossed his arms, turning back to him. “We’re moving the books from my room to the extra locker by Sam’s tonight. Were you paying any attention _at all_?”

Bucky shrugged, keeping his head down. Then jerked it back up as Steve’s words finally registered. He caught Steve’s arm as he was starting toward the door.

“Wait! Did you say tonight?”

“Yeah, Buck. What is _up_ with you today?”

Bucky dropped his hand and swallowed thickly. “I-I can’t. Not tonight.”

“What?” Steve’s face fell with disappointment “But Bucky, this was _your_ idea! You have to be there!”

Bucky wished that a hole could just swallow him up, so he wouldn’t have to see the hurt on Steve’s face. “I know,” He sighed. “but Rumlow already invited me to this party-”

“Seriously?” Steve growled. “You’re ditching me to hang out with _Rumlow_? After…” 

_After he pushed you around and I did nothing._ Bucky finished in his head. “Look I know, but I can’t exactly turn this down. I’ve been spending so much time with you that he’s starting to get suspicious.”

“Why do you even want to hang out with him?” Steve huffed, glaring at him accusingly. 

“I don’t! I just…” Bucky broke off and rubbed between his eyes. There was no easy way he could explain this to Steve. “Look, I know you’re pissed about me missing the book thing. I promise I’ll make it up to you next week. We can go all Captain America on Rumlow and his buddies for what happened yesterday, I promise.”

“This isn’t about Captain America!”

“Come on, Steve. I don’t even want to go. It’s so stupid; they have this dumb drawing thing like a secret password so you can get in.” Bucky rolled up his sleeve, baring the red symbol. Steve jumped back, his face white as a sheet.

“What the hell?” He hissed, rushing forward to cover Bucky’s arm as he glanced around the room nervously. “That’s Hydra!”

“Hydra?” Bucky repeated dumbly just as the memory of Steve dragging him away from a crudely spray painted symbol flashed in his mind. Whatever that symbol meant, it seemed to scare Steve. “What’s Hydra?”

“It’s a fucking gang, Bucky!” Steve snapped. He had started running his hands through his hair, eyes wide and panicked. “Jesus, how the hell did you get into this?”

Bucky flinched like he had been reprimanded. He moved forward, his hands splayed out, trying to get Steve to calm down. “It’s just a party, Steve. It’s not- they can’t be that serious.”

“It’s not a party, Buck, it’s a recruitment mission.” Steve told him, fixing him with a serious stare. “Hydra is full of a bunch of assholes who go around thinking they can just beat up whoever doesn’t fit their narrow scope of the world. It’s ugly, and they’re always looking for new members to carry out the dirty work.” 

Cold dread settled in Bucky’s stomach, and he broke his gaze, staring pointedly at his shoes. Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Tell me you’re not still going.” Steve’s soft voice was edging on pleading.

Bucky stayed silent, keeping his head down. Steve’s eyes snapped up to him in anger and disbelief. “ _Bucky?_ ”

“Rumlow asked me.” He choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t as simple as Steve thought it was. Bucky _needed_ to stay on Rumlow’s good side. He’d seen what happened to guys that crossed him- to _Steve_ \- and he couldn’t face that.

“What the _fuck_ , Bucky?!” Steve shouted. He threw down his hands, and they made a sharp smacking sound as they hit his thighs, causing Bucky to flinch.

He wanted Steve to just _leave him alone_ about this already. He didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. What right did Steve have to tell him who he could and couldn’t hang out with, anyways?“I’m just going to a party, I’m not joining a gang.” Bucky protested, a sharper edge creeping into his voice.

Steve huffed. “You’re acting like a moron.” He spat at Bucky, words like vinegar. “Didn’t you just hear what I said? They’re _bad news_.”

Angerbegan to coil in Bucky’s stomach. “How do I know that’s not just a bunch of bullshit that you made up because you’re _jealous?_ ” He asked, staring at Steve defiantly.

Steve’s hands curled into fists at his sides, even as his face flushed red.“I am _not_ jealous.”

“Yeah you are! You’re acting like some bitchy, clingy girlfriend and it’s- it’s _annoying_.” Bucky snapped. Rage was boiling in his chest, spilling over uncontrollably into his words and flooding them with venom. “I’ve known Rumlow a lot longer than I’ve know you, okay?”

“Oh so that’s your excuse for letting him order you around like you’re his bitch?”

“Well better him than some self-righteous, bossy little _faggot_!”

The second he spit the words out of his mouth, Bucky wanted to swallow them back again. Steve recoiled as violently as if he’d been hit. He opened his mouth to say something back, then snapped it closed again. He took a heaving breath, and then his face crumpled, and he glanced away, blinking hard. When he looked back up at Bucky the hurt in his eyes was enough to make Bucky's breath catch in his throat.

“Steve, I-I didn’t mean that…”

“Fuck you.” Steve growled, but there was no force behind his words, and his voice wavered at the end. Tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes, and Bucky watched, frozen, as one rolled down his cheek. Steve sniffled and wiped angrily at his face as he pushed past Bucky, making a beeline for the door.

“Steve-”

The blond boy paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You know what?” He turned back to glare at Bucky with red-rimmed eyes. “Go to the party. You’ll fit right in.”

And then he slammed the door behind him, leaving Bucky alone and feeling colder than ice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to disappear for 7 months and then hit you with a semi-truck of angst. It gets better in the next chapter! Well, actually it kinda gets worse but THEN it'll get better I promise.
> 
> Fun fact: "Je suis la plus belle pomme de royaume." Was an actual mistake I made when our French class was putting on a play. When I realized what I said I couldn't stop laughing, much to the confusion of everyone else, who hadn't bothered to translate their lines. Two years and one trip to Paris later, and it's still the only thing I know how to say in French.
> 
> Also Tony wrote and alternate ending to Steve's coming out scene. You can find it on my tumblr here -> http://pepper-cola.tumblr.com/post/122302014212/steves-coming-out-scene-alternate-ending
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading and for waiting. Your views and kudos and comments mean so much and really do keep me motivated!  
> Until next time! (Whenever that may be.)


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